


The House of the Novelty T-Shirts

by genteelrebel



Series: Adam and Joe [3]
Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Cancer, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Domestic, Drama, Established Relationship, Holidays, Homophobia, M/M, Original Character Death(s), POV Outsider, Slash, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-13
Updated: 2015-03-13
Packaged: 2018-03-17 15:34:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 43,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3534758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genteelrebel/pseuds/genteelrebel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part of the Adam and Joe universe, set about eight years after the main novel ends.  Outsider POV.  Miss Millicent Carolita Margaretta Dido Alfonso was only six years old when Dr. Alex Porter and his life partner Jobey Darwin moved in next door--and at first it seemed like no one could be weirder! But almost before she knew it, knowing them had changed her life.  And she, in turn, changed theirs. </p><p>Please note: this story contains a VERY graphic scene of child sexual abuse and some gory violence in the aftermath. There’s also some blatant homophobia and a character death (of an original character, not Methos or Joe.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The House of the Novelty T-Shirts

_~Las Cruces, New Mexico, 2006~_

It was the pair of leather library chairs that first caught Milly’s attention. 

She’d been sitting behind the garden hedge for more than ten minutes, watching the moving men unload her new neighbor’s things. At first, all she’d seen was an extremely boring selection of large cardboard boxes, so boring that Milly had been about to give up her spying in favor of finding something more interesting to do. But then the movers started unloading the furniture, and suddenly she was fascinated. The big leather chairs were shiny, colored a rich mahogany that shone richly in the sun, and liberally tufted with brass studs that to Milly’s six-year-old eye looked like a wealth of golden coins. Other treasures soon followed. A large and mysterious wooden trunk, bordered with iron corners and secured with a huge rusted lock that could have once guarded a pirate’s hoard. A huge and wondrous Grandfather’s clock, the pendulum carefully encased in bubble wrap. Bookcase after bookcase after bookcase, ranging from cheap fiberboard constructions to odd looking things with glass doors that flipped up—did anybody in the world really have enough books to fill that many cases? Milly watched curiously, and the next thing she knew, one of the moving men was emerging from the van with a genuine stuffed swordfish on a plaque, large and curving and heavy. The scales glittered magically in the early morning sunshine. “Where do you want this, Mr. Darwin?” 

Milly followed the moving man’s gaze to the front porch, where a man with white hair and beard had just limped into view. He was wearing a sweatshirt that said “Don’t b sharp, don’t b flat, just b natural” and was leaning on a four-footed cane. “I don’t know, that particular monstrosity belongs to the other half,” he said, and called back into the house. “Alex! The movers want to know where to put your damn fish thing!” 

“You mean the swordfish? It’s got to go in my study,” returned a voice from inside the house. Milly thought that the voice sounded funny, like the people on the Discovery Channel sometimes talked. A few moments later a tall, dark haired man appeared on the porch, a rakish smile on his face. He, too, wore a sweatshirt with writing on the front, one that read: “Sarcasm. Just one of the many fine services I offer.” Milly thought he had a very large nose. “You can’t have a really proper, masculine study without a swordfish on the wall,” he said. “It’s an unwritten law.”

“You’re a nut,” the first man said, but Milly thought there was more affection than annoyance in the words. “Down the hall, first door on the right,” he said to the moving man, and when the mover had nodded and disappeared through the front door the white-haired man lowered his voice. “Where did you get that thing, anyway? And don’t try to tell me you caught it fishing off the coast of Florida with Hemingway, either. I won’t believe you.”

The rakish smiled deepened. “Well, as a matter of fact…”

“Stow it. I don’t think I want to know.” The mover reappeared, and both men got a strained, subtly guilty look, as if they’d been caught talking about something they shouldn’t have. Milly frowned, confused. “Anyway,” the first man said, more quietly this time. “I thought you wanted to hang the sword collection in the study. Isn’t that what you said when we took them out of storage?”

“I did. It’s best to establish myself to the neighbors as a medieval weapons buff right away. Could save awkward questions later.” The white-haired man nodded soberly. The tall man smiled. “But there should be plenty of room on the wall for my little marine friend, too. It will be a nice visual pun, don’t you think? Swords…swordfish…”

“Nut,” the white-haired man said again, and this time there was no question: he meant it as a term of endearment. “That goes in the dining room,” he told the moving men, who had just navigated a large oak table out of the back of the van. When the movers had grunted their way with the table inside the house the white-haired man took a furtive look down the street—completely failing to see the six-year-old girl crouching behind the hedge—and slipped an arm around the other man’s waist. His voice lowered even further. “Going to be happy here, Old Man?”

“I think so,” answered the other, just as softly. “It’s a nice neighborhood, quiet. The house needs a lot of fixing up, but that will just give us something to do to keep us out of trouble while we’re settling in. And the university’s offered me a great salary, thanks to Dr. Porter’s impressive credentials…”

“Fake credentials.”

“Real credentials, thank you very much. I really did get an advanced degree in linguistics from Trinity College, once upon a time. Just sadly a bit too long ago to put the real date on my resume,” the tall man corrected. “Anyway, we won’t have to worry about money for a while. We can easily live on my paycheck without dipping into any of the Swiss accounts.” He looked around the yard sadly. “We may eventually regret coming back to the US if the political climate keeps going in the direction it is, but for right now…well, I think this will be a good place to spend a few years. We can get back on our feet, get used to not being Adam and Joe for a while before we set out for shores unknown. Besides.” The tall man turned around and looked into the white-haired man’s eyes fondly. “You’re here. What more do I need to be happy?”

The tall man’s fingers touched the other man’s face, lingering on the brilliant white beard. “You know I feel the same way,” the shorter man said, and then they both jumped as a very loud “THUD!” resounded through the house. The white-haired man sighed. “I’d better go make sure they haven’t destroyed mom’s dining room table,” he said, and clasped his companion on the shoulder. “Why don’t you start getting the guitars out of the van?”

“Your wish is my command.”

They separated, the short man limping into the house and the tall man walking out into the street, where he removed a battered guitar case from the back of an equally battered VW van with all the tender care of a man picking up an infant. Milly snuck a peak into the back of the VW. She saw a few more guitar cases, and a collection of extremely uninteresting old papers and books. Then she reluctantly slipped back home. It was time for lunch.

***

Grown-ups tend to forget just how long and boring a summer vacation can be for a six-year-old, to whom the three months between school years can stretch out into a tedious infinitum. Certainly the two grown-ups responsible for Milly’s care had no idea. Milly’s mother, who worked very long hours to support her young daughter and elderly mother as the bookkeeper for a local construction firm, was gone from six in the morning to seven in the evening nearly every day. Milly’s Abuela tried, but she was in her early eighties, and often closed her eyes on the couch with the stern injunction that Milly “just find someplace quiet to play so I can rest.” Living in a neighborhood that contained no other children under twelve, bored to tears by the scant handful of children’s books and movies her house contained, and firmly forbidden to go beyond the stop signs that marked the ends of her street, Milly found that she had a lot of free time on her hands. So perhaps it wasn’t any wonder that observing her new neighbors soon became her favorite thing to do. 

She quickly developed a ritual. Every day when Abuela closed her eyes for her afternoon nap Milly would swing into action. She’d push her way out through her screen door, walk down her porch steps, and then she’d take up her position: hiding behind either the hedge in the front yard or the big butterfly bush in the back, which was located on a small hill that offered a perfect vantage point for looking down into the stranger’s back yard. In her heart of hearts, Milly knew it was wrong to spy, so she never told either Mama or Abuela about it, knowing she’d get scolded if she did. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to stop. The strangers were much too interesting.

It wasn’t just their belongings that fascinated her. There was something very appealing about the two men themselves. Milly couldn’t quite put it into words, but there was a warmth about them—a gentleness, a love—that shone through everything they did, whether they were mowing their lawn or retrieving the afternoon paper or puttering around fixing up their tumble-down home’s exterior. Milly spent one afternoon watching the couple carefully fix some broken tiles on the edge of the roof—the tall man up on a ladder while the older man handed up tools and encouraging words—and Milly thought that she had never seen two people be so *nice* to each other before. It was exotic, mysterious, and strangely comforting. It was also quite intriguing.

She was sitting in her perch behind the butterfly bush one day while the dark-haired man, who was wearing a t-shirt covered with strange symbols Milly didn’t recognize, planted bulbs in the backyard. Of the whole neglected, beaten-up house, that backyard had once been the most neglected thing of all. Over the last two weeks the two men had taken vanloads full of broken furniture, old tires, and other garbage to the town dump. They’d also removed an equally large amount of overgrown bushes and weeds. Milly had been watching when, much to both men’s surprise, the tall one had discovered the overgrown fish pond in the corner. Now the little water feature was clean and filled with brand new lily plants, the salvaged fountain pump creating a merry tinkling. It was along the pond’s edge that the tall man was now working, his hands moving with surprising skill as he planted tulip bulbs into the earth. The other man, who wore a grey sweatshirt that said “I’m here! Now what are your other two wishes?” came to look over the work. “You don’t have to do that now,” he said. “I could handle it myself, easy.”

“Could you? Getting up and down off the ground isn’t easy for you, Jobey. And the earth here is pretty uneven.” The white haired man nodded reluctantly. “Besides,” the tall man continued. “I want to have as much of the garden done as I can before fall term starts. No telling how much free time I’ll have after that.”

“What kind of bulbs are you planting?”

“A bit of everything. Crocus, hyacinth, daffodils. Even a few tulips that are supposed to do well in xeric areas. I thought I’d plant a variety, see what comes up in the spring, and then we could plant more of whatever does the best.” He looked up at the white-haired man. “It’s been a while since I’ve tried to grow anything in a desert climate. And reading all the gardening books in the world is no substitute for getting familiar with your own bit of land.”

The shorter man smiled down at him fondly. “And how many different bits of land have you been familiar with, Old Man?”

The dark-haired man looked wistful. “More than you can possible imagine,” he said. “I’ve pretty much stayed away from farming as a profession ever since I learned how to read—earning a living as a scribe or a bookkeeper was always much easier on the back—but I’ve had at least a small garden on five out of seven of the continents, I think. Dealt with droughts and monsoons and mildew and more kinds of unpleasant vermin than I care to recall. It’s all been rewarding, though. Getting into the dirt with your own two hands and making something grow is always rewarding.” He picked up one of the bulbs, a tiny thing wrapped in a purple papery exterior, and held it up for the older man’s inspection. “Look at this, Jobey. It’s a Violet Lady, especially recommended to grow in climates like Las Cruces. The thing is, the reason it does so well here is because it’s a throw back—about as close to the wild species as you can get. Isn’t that amazing? Several hundred years of human tinkering and hybridization, and we still can’t improve on the original.”

“Yeah, well, there’s another ‘original’ sitting here in this yard that I’m pretty fond of,” Jobey said. The dark-haired man smiled. Jobey patted him on the shoulder. “Look, you finish up here, and I’ll start weeding those old planter boxes on the patio. Sound good?”

“Sounds very good.”

The older man limped away, back to that portion of the large brick patio shadowed by the house’s tile roof. A calm descended. The dark-haired man went back to work, peacefully setting out a series of tiny white tubers that were completely unlike the big fat tulip bulbs Milly had planted at school during kindergarten. The white-haired man, his hands equally busy with his planter boxes, began to sing softly under his breath. After a moment the first one joined in, harmonizing effortlessly as the white-haired man began to tell the world about the town where he was born and a man who sailed to sea in a yellow submarine. It was such a quiet, peaceful scene that Milly quite forgot how precariously she was perched. She leaned forward little by little to hear better, and suddenly the butterfly bush stalk she was clinging to snapped under her weight. Milly found herself falling down the hill, the earth going topsy-turvy and continually swapping places with the sky as she rolled. She finished up by tumbling more or less head-over-heels into the center of the pond, which, fortunately for Milly, was less then two feet deep. She sat up uncomfortably, soaked to the skin, an unlucky lily plant dangling from her hair. 

The dark haired man’s reaction to this was not at all what Milly would have expected. He stayed where he was, fingers still busily planting, and called over his shoulder to the other man. “Jobey! Why didn’t you tell me this house was built next to an inter-dimensional portal?”

“How’d you mean?” 

“Well, it has to be *some* kind of rift in the time-space continuum. The Wise Races all left this plane a long, long time ago.” The dark-haired man nodded at Milly. “And it looks like a pixie has just tumbled into our pond.”

Milly stayed where she was, feeling her cheeks grow hot. She was fairly sure that the dark-haired man was teasing her, although it was hard to tell. He seemed as casual as if six-year-old girls splashed into his garden pond each and every day. His companion was equally relaxed. “Looks more like a mermaid to me,” he said, limping over from the patio to look Milly over appraisingly. “Hello, little girl. What’s your name?”

Milly’s lip trembled, but she made her voice as clear and proud as she could. “Millicent Carolita Margaretta Dido Alfonso.”

“All that? For a little sprout like you?” 

The white-haired man shook his head and, bracing his body weight against his cane, took Milly’s hand and pulled her out of the water. The dark-haired man, however, settled back on his knees, a look of pleased surprise on his face. “Dido!” he exclaimed happily. “Most clever and honorable of women, legendary founder of the great city of Carthage. Jobey, we *have* struck gold today. We’re not just being visited by a pixie, we’re also entertaining a queen.”

“Or a pop singer,” the white-haired man said wryly, and led Milly over to a bench on the patio. “Here, sweetie. Sit here and drip for a minute. I’ll get you a towel.”

He limped inside the house. “Well!” the dark haired man said cheerfully, arranging his long legs tailor–fashion on the brick, looking up at Milly with a great sense of expectation. “My name’s Alex, and that was Jobey who pulled you out of the pond. I *am* glad to make your acquaintance, Miss Millicent Carolita Margaretta Dido Alfonso. I’ve had the feeling that someone was watching us very closely from the hedges for several days now. You have no idea how relieved I am to know that those eyes belonged to our very own pixie, not a private detective or rogue CIA agent.” 

It sounded like a joke, so Milly smiled dutifully, although she was very aware of the water squishing inside her sneakers. “I’m not a pixie,” she said. The white-haired man returned, a large, thick towel in his hands. He wrapped it around Milly’s shoulders, and she snuggled into it gratefully, the soft cozy material making her feel braver. She looked at the two men with frank curiosity, realizing for the first time that talking to someone face to face was a much different thing from peering at them over a hedge. “What does your t-shirt say?” she asked.

The dark haired man blinked and looked down, as if he’d forgotten what he was wearing. “Oh. It’s written in Greek,” he said. “It says ‘If you can read this, you’re overeducated.’” He gave Milly an apologetic little smile. 

“You can speak Greek?”

“I can indeed.”

“Is that why you talk so funny? Did learning Greek make your mouth work different?”

Alex looked startled, then amused. “No, although that’s a very good guess,” he said. “I’ve learned a lot of different languages over the years, and all of them have affected my speech a little. But mostly I sound different than you’re used to because I first learned English very far away from here. People who live in different places often sound different from each other even when the words they use are nearly the same.”

“Where did you learn, then?”

A soft smile. “A small village that no longer exists, but if it did, it would now be in a country called Wales. Do you know where that is, Pixie?” Milly shook her head, and Alex looked thoughtful. There were a number of large books stacked with a couple of newspapers on a table next to one of the patio chairs. Milly knew, from her weeks of observation, that Alex liked to work in the shady breeze on the back porch. He carefully wiped his dirty hands on his shirt and reached for a book. “Fortunately, I was looking at the atlas earlier this morning,” he said, and started flipping through the book, his long fingers elegantly caressing the pages until he opened to a map of Europe. “Right. This is Europe, and these are the British Isles,” he said, turning the book around and holding it up so Milly could see. “This is Wales. This is Ireland—I went to school in Dublin, here.” He pointed. “And this is London, where Jobey and I lived before coming here. And Paris, where we lived before that…”

“Alex.” There was a hint of warning in Jobey’s voice. 

“It’s all right, Jobey. I wasn’t going to go into any more detail than that.” He looked at Milly expectantly. “Do you think, if I turned to a map of the United States, you could show me where we live now?”

Milly nodded shyly. Alex found the page. Milly carefully dried her hands on the towel’s edge—the big book looked expensive, much too expensive to get wet—and then timidly touched southern New Mexico, small fingers sliding to cover the town of Las Cruces. “That’s right,” Alex said, clearly impressed. “That’s exactly where we live. Can you show me the state capital?” Blushing now, Milly’s finger went to the little star enclosed in a circle with the words “Santa Fe” written next to it. “Very good,” Alex encouraged. “Now what about the capital of Texas? Can you find me the capital of Texas?” Milly nodded and pointed out Austin. They went through a half a dozen other capitals, after which Alex pretended to be exhausted. “Whew!” he said, mock-wiping his brow. “I think we may have an undiscovered geographical genius on our hands here, Jobey. How come you know so much about state capitals, Milly?”

“I like to look at maps,” Milly answered. “In school, I always like looking at the maps the best of anything. People make fun of me. But I like to know where things are.” 

“So do I,” Alex said. 

He met Milly’s eyes and smiled at her, a warm soft smile of shared comradeship, not the teasing grin he’d given her before. Milly found herself smiling back…and then shyness overwhelmed her once again. “I—I’d better go,” she said. “Abuela will be waking up from her nap soon. She’ll miss me.” 

“Want me to go with you, Sprout?” Jobey asked, concerned. “Walk you to the door, explain to your grandma how you ended up so soaked?”

“No-ooo,” Milly said, blushing furiously at the thought of what Abuela would do if she found out her granddaughter had tumbled into the new neighbor’s lily pond. “No. That’s all right.” Milly got up, letting the towel slip back to the bench. “Thank you for showing me the book,” she said politely and fled, leaving damp footprints behind as she climbed back up the hill to her own backyard. 

When she reached the top of the hill, screened by the wreck of the butterfly bush, she took a moment to look back. Alex had risen and was standing with his arm around Jobey’s waist. “Well. At least one of our neighbors isn’t too freaked out by our presence to talk to us,” Jobey said wryly.

“Mmm,” Alex said thoughtfully. “Bright little thing. I hope she deigns to visit us again.” The two, arm in arm, wandered back into the house. And Milly went home.

***

Abuela accepted Millicent’s soaked clothing and hair with no more than a token scolding, easily accepting Milly’s story about running through a neighbor’s garden sprinkler. Her only comment was a clipped “What, the Rodriguez’s are watering their garden at *this* time of day? In this drought? Tsk, tsk!” before she sent Milly to have a bath and change her clothes. Milly felt a little guilty about lying, but she wanted to keep the afternoon’s encounter to herself. Jobey and Alex were *her* secret, her discovery. Having Abuela know about them too felt like letting her trespass on something personal, something very special and sacred. Not that Abuela was completely unaware of the new neighbor’s presence as it was. The elderly woman had done a fair amount of peering out from behind the curtains since the two men had moved in, wondering aloud who they were and where they’d come from. She kept saying that she really needed to bake a tamale pie and take it over for a housewarming gift. But then she would grumble about the summer heat and the way her arthritis was acting up, so Milly knew she would never actually do it. The new neighbors were, for the time being, Milly’s exclusive property. Milly wanted to keep them that way. At least for a little while.

But eventually, all good things must come to an end. In early August Milly’s mother came home from work a little later than normal, after Milly and Abuela had already settled down to supper. “I met our new neighbors today,” Gabriella announced as she sat down at the table, slipping off her shoes with a tired sigh. “Or one of them, anyway. He was at the mailbox getting his mail when I drove up.”

Abuela pricked up her ears. “Really? Which one? The young one or the older one?”

“The young one. Dr. Alex Porter.”

“Doctor?” Abuela looked impressed. “We have a doctor living on our street? That’s good luck. We won’t have to go all the way to the hospital if there’s an emergency. ”

Milly’s mother rolled her eyes. “Not that kind of doctor, Mama,” she explained impatiently. “He’s got a PhD in linguistic science. He teaches at the University.” 

“Oh.” Abuela thought about this for a few moments, then cocked her head curiously to one side. “Is he married?”

“Ma-ma.” Milly’s mother was exasperated. “Don’t even start. I’m not about to go down that path again. Not after—” Both women looked suddenly at Milly, who didn’t so much as glance up from her beans. She was very used to these kinds of stop-and-start conversations. Her mother and grandmother often held them in her presence. “Besides,” Milly’s mother finished after a long pause, speaking positively. “He’s not going to be interested in me.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Gabriella! You’re still a very young woman. Beautiful, hardworking, smart…”

“Mama,” Gabriella said in warning, and Abuela subsided, although Milly could tell from the way Abuela pursed her lips that the last word on the subject had yet to be said. “Anyway,” Gabriella said. “I’m not the first member of the family he’s met. Milly got there before me.” She shot Milly a half exasperated, half amused expression. “It seems our little girl fell into their lily pond last week.”

“Millicent Carolita Margaretta Dido Alfonso!” Abuela exclaimed, then looked at Gabriella apologetically. “Oh, Gabriella, I am so sorry. Did she hurt anything? Are they going to sue? This child, I try to keep an eye on her, but she is always getting into trouble…”

“Relax, Mama. Dr. Porter didn’t seem upset.” Gabriella took another sip of tea. “Quite the opposite, in fact. He said Milly was ‘a very charming companion, once she finished dripping.’ He offered to baby sit anytime you or I needed a break.” Gabriella looked thoughtful. “I might just take him up on it, one of these days when I’m working late and you have to go to the doctor. Mrs. Guerrero is so hard to get a hold of on short notice. And Dr. Porter seems nice, even if he isn’t dating material. Strange, but nice. I think he’ll make a good neighbor.”

“I think so too,” Abuela said warmly.

“Mama! You haven’t even met him yet.”

“No, but I’ve watched him through the window, haven’t I? I saw him helping his father out to the car yesterday. He was so gentle: opening the door for him, helping him in, finding a place for his cane. It’s rare to find a man willing to take such good care of his parents these days.”

Gabriella coughed slightly. “I don’t think the other man is Dr. Porter’s father, mama.”

“No?” Abuela looked confused. “Why not?”

“Well…” For some reason, Milly’s mother looked embarrassed. “They…they don’t have the same last name, Mama.”

“Oh.” Abuela waved a hand dismissively. “So they’re uncle and nephew then, or stepfather and stepson, or perhaps Dr. Porter was a foster child. There could be all kinds of reasons why they don’t have the same last name, Gabriella.” Gabriella merely raised an eyebrow expressively, patting her lips with a napkin. Abuela’s eyes narrowed. “Unless…oh, no, Gabriella. You don’t think they’re…”

Gabriella nodded. “Dr. Porter pretty much came right out and said so when I talked to him.”

“But—” Abuela looked absolutely flabbergasted. “But there’s such a large age difference between them!”

“I know, Mama. I *told* you they were strange.” Gabriella finished dabbing at her lips, put the napkin down meditatively. “But I got the impression from Dr. Porter that they’d been together for a very long time. He seems very happy. Whatever they have, it looks like its working.” She looked rueful. “Better than any relationship *I’ve* ever had, anyway.”

Abuela was shaking her head. “Oh, no. Gabriella, you must have heard wrong. They’re probably cousins, or…”

“Believe what you want, Mama. It makes no difference to *me.*” Gabriella pushed back her chair impatiently and picked up her plate, heading into the kitchen to start the dishes. 

Abuela watched her go. “Gabriella?”

“Yes, Mama?”

Abuela fluttered her hands helplessly. “Do we need to be worried about them? You know.” She lowered her voice. “Keep them away from Milly? Until we know for sure?”

“Mama!” Gabriella’s shocked face appeared around the kitchen door. “Mama, it’s 2006. What century are you living in? Being gay does not automatically make somebody a child predator.” She shook her head in disgust, then brandished a wooden spoon in Abuela’s direction. “And don’t you dare say anything to them that even suggests you’re thinking such a thing! I imagine their lives are quite hard enough as it is.”

“Oh. Yes. I suppose you’re right.” Abuela looked subdued. Then she favored her daughter with a tiny smile. “So there’s absolutely no chance of me getting a doctor-of-linguini or whatever it was for my next son-in-law, then.”

Gabriella smiled. “Absolutely none.”

“Darn.”

***

Nothing more was said for several days. Every now and then, Milly would catch Abuela peering curiously out of the kitchen window when Jobey and Dr. Porter were outside, but she never made a move to go out and speak to them. Then came the afternoon when Milly’s mother called with the extremely unwelcome news that she had slipped on a patch of oil in the company parking lot and broken her ankle. “I’m at the Immediate Care Center now, Mama,” Gabriella said, sounding more exasperated then hurt. “They did the x-rays and put the cast on right here…but they won’t let me drive home alone, and I can’t possibly manage my briefcase and papers on the bus by myself. You’re going to have to call Mrs. Guerrero to watch Milly, catch a bus and come get me.”

“But Gabriella!” Abuela was close to hysterical. “I haven’t taken a bus by myself all the way across town in more than twenty years!”

“I know, Mama. You’re just going to have to gather your courage and do it. Somebody has to drive the car home, or they’ll tow it. And you know we can’t afford a cab.”

“Santa Maria,” Abuela said. But she gathered her hat and coat and called Mrs. Guerrero…only to discover that Milly’s usual baby sitter couldn’t possibly come to the house in less than half an hour. Abuela looked at Milly, then looked out the window…and then, with the air of a woman about to go where no woman has gone before, took Milly by the hand and led her next door, where she rang the bell. The door was opened by Jobey, who looked confused for a moment before smiling welcomingly. His t-shirt said: “Musicians Duet Best.” “Oh! It’s Mrs. Alfonso, isn’t it?” he said. “Alex met your daughter at the mailbox a few days ago. I’m Job Darwin, Alex’s life partner.”

“Yes, yes, I know,” Abuela answered, painfully awkward. “Um, Mr. Darwin. I was wondering if you could do me a favor. I wouldn’t ask, but Gabriella’s had a little accident…” 

She sketched in the story quickly. Jobey looked startled, then sympathetic. “So you’d like me and Alex to watch the Sprout for a little while?” he said. “Not a problem. We’d love to have her. But there’s no need for you to take the bus. Alex would be happy to drive you over to the medical center.”

Abuela turned bright pink. “Oh no no,” she said, and Milly understood at once. There was no way Abuela could be beholden to strangers for a favor that large. It was more then bad enough that she had to ask these odd men to look after Milly for the small space of half an hour. Accepting a ride all the way across the city, with gas prices so high, was way too much. “It’s all right. The bus goes right by the Immediate Care place. I just need you to watch Millicent for a little while…her normal baby sitter will be here at 4…”

Jobey looked confused, but nodded agreeably enough. “Fine. We’ll have a good time, won’t we, Sprout?” Milly nodded. Jobey put his hands on Milly’s shoulders. “Don’t worry about a thing, Mrs. Alfonso. We may not look like it, but Alex and I are both really good with kids. Everything will be fine.”

Abuela looked less than convinced, but she nodded sharply and told Milly not to make *too* much trouble for Dr. Porter and Mr. Darwin before Mrs. Guerrero arrived. A second later she was heading down the walk…and Jobey was leading Milly through the house and out into the back garden. “Alex, we’ve got company!” Jobey boomed. “Get your nose out of that book and come help me entertain her.”

Alex was, indeed, sitting on a bench with a thick leather-bound volume in his hands. When he saw Milly he set it aside at once, coming to his feet with a pleased expression. Today’s T-shirt read: “Books: The Original Laptop.” “Pixie!” he said. “What a pleasant surprise. Jobey and I were just talking about you.” He looked at Jobey curiously. “To what do we owe this pleasure?”

“Sprout’s mom got into an accident at work, broke an ankle,” Jobey said. “Mrs. Alfonso’s going to pick her up. She needs us to fill in the gaps until the regular baby sitter arrives.”

“Oh, I see.” Alex looked faintly confused. “I didn’t know your family had more than the one car, Pix.”

“We don’t,” Milly said. 

Alex looked even more puzzled. Jobey jumped in. “She’s taking the bus, Alex.”

“What?” Now Alex looked incensed. “But that’s ridiculous. My car’s big enough to fit everybody in. We wouldn’t even need to take the van.”

“Jobey said that too, but Abuela said no,” Milly said. “She doesn’t take favors from strangers. Not unless she has to.” 

“Oh. I see.” 

Alex looked at Milly thoughtfully for a moment, then nodded. Milly looked away, suddenly feeling very lost and uncertain. Jobey touched her gently on the shoulder. “Worried about your mom, Sprout?”

“A little,” she admitted. “Does it hurt a lot? Breaking an ankle?”

“Oh, no. Not really,” Alex said. 

Jobey shot him a dirty look. “Not for *you*” he said, and returned his attention to Milly. “Sprout, yes, broken bones always hurt a lot. Your mom will have to take some pretty strong pain medicine for several days, medicine that will make her sleepy. But if the care center’s releasing her already, it’s probably a pretty simple break, one that will heal nicely without surgery. I’m sure she’ll be as good as new in a couple of months.” 

Milly’s eyes grew wide. “Months?”

“It’ll go by faster than you think,” Jobey said kindly. “Here. You sit down by Alex. I’ll go get us all something to drink.”

He limped off. Alex patted the cushion on the bench beside him, and after a moment Milly joined him. She looked at the book Alex had been reading—it was inscribed with more of that funny writing she assumed was Greek—decided it was grown-up and boring, and surveyed the rest of the pile beside his patio lounge instead. “Where’s the map book?”

Alex looked startled. “Um, I put it back in my office. I didn’t need it for my work today. Why?”

“I liked it. We don’t have a book with maps in it at home. Just the ones from the gas station that Mama keeps in the car. And I--” Milly looked shyly down at her feet. “I was hoping you could show me where Springfield was.” 

“Springfield, Illinois?” asked Jobey, who had just returned. He was carrying a large tray laden with three glasses of orange juice. Milly took one and shrugged, not really having any idea. Jobey frowned. “There are lots of cities named Springfield in the United States, Sprout. Why do you want to find it?”

“I heard Mama say that’s where my daddy went to live. That was a long time ago, though.” 

There was a long silence while Alex and Jobey exchanged significant looks. “I see. Well, I’ll tell you what,” Alex said. “We can look it up anyway, find out just how many there are. Jobey, can you bring us the Illustrated Atlas of the United States? It should be on that shelf just to the left of my study desk, next to the dictionary and all the other essential references.”

Jobey nodded and limped away, returning a minute later with a big flat book under his arm and a wry expression on his face. “Found it tucked between Ashelbie’s Compendium of Medieval Profanity and the Annotated Wizard of Oz,” he grumbled. “Essential references, my--” Alex raised his eyebrows. “My sainted Aunt Sally,” Jobey finished weakly. He handed the book to Alex, who proceeded to introduce Milly to the concept of an index, and how to find things with it. Milly could read well enough to see that the list of Springfields stretched on for several inches of tiny type. As Alex began reading the longitude and latitude of each one out and finding them on their corresponding state maps, she got more and more discouraged. There just so many of them, and all of them were so far away. Jobey, noticing Milly’s increasingly downcast expression, came to stand behind them with a grave look in his eyes. “Maybe we’ve had enough geography for one day,” he suggested quietly.

“I think you’re probably right,” Alex said, shooting a concerned glance at Milly, who was sitting very small and still. “I’ll tell you what, though. Geography isn’t just the study of where things are—it’s also the study of *why* things are where they are. Have you ever wondered why it’s so hot here in Las Cruces, Milly? And why the city was built here, instead of ten miles to the north or south or west or east?” Milly shook her head. Alex flipped the book back to a more detailed map of the southwestern United States, and began to tell her all about climate patterns and rivers and natural resources. They were subjects which could have been dry in the extreme but which Milly found interesting despite herself, especially when Alex took pains to point out exactly where each thing he was talking about was located, and made up little stories to illustrate his points. By the time Mrs. Guerrero arrived to collect her—flustered and apologizing heartily for being nearly an hour late—Milly and Alex had traced out a map of the entire American Southwest and were busy coloring it in together. “Thank you,” Milly said, feeling sad that the afternoon had come to an end. “I—I had a good time.”

“Come back and see us soon,” Jobey said heartily, and Alex said “I’ll put the map in my flat file, Milly. We can finish it the next time you come to visit.” 

“Tomorrow?”

“Well, that depends on what your mother says,” Alex said. “But we’ll see.” He nodded at Mrs. Guerrero, who was regarding both him and Jobey in exactly the same awkward, shy way Abuela had. “Please give Milly’s mother and grandmother our best, Mrs. Guerrero. Let them know we’d be glad to help out if they need anything. Broken ankles are no fun.”

“I—I will,” said Mrs. Guerrero, and hustled Milly off the porch and home. 

Later that night Gabriella, lying on the living room couch with her new cast balanced on a pillow, asked Milly how her afternoon had gone. When Milly responded in babbling detail about the maps and the stories Alex had told her, Gabriella smiled, then looked very thoughtful. Nothing more about Milly’s adventure was said, at least not within Milly’s hearing…but when Milly asked if she could go over to play at Jobey and Alex’s the next day, Gabriella took a long hard look at her mother and gave her permission. Milly tripped over, knocking brightly on the door. Jobey opened it. “Hey, Sprout! I was wondering if we’d see you today,” he said. “Listen, we went shopping this morning, and Alex bought some better colored pencils for your map at the art store. He’s in the living room…” Milly flew past him. Alex, who was reading a newspaper, looked up and smiled. And that, more or less, was that.

For the rest of the summer, Milly was a semi-permanent resident at the little house, spending every moment there that she could. There was just so much to *do* at Alex and Jobey’s, so many strange things to look at and touch and learn about. She quickly discovered that both men were natural teachers, although their fields of expertise were very different. From Jobey, Milly learned basic arithmetic and the rules of major league baseball and that music used to come on circles of vinyl you bought at the store instead of bytes you downloaded on the computer. From Alex, she learned how to count to ten in Greek and the difference between a rapier and a broadsword and that books could unlock the mysteries of the universe, if you were willing to take the time to look. Both men read to her constantly, material ranging from King Arthur to the day’s community news to the popular history magazines Alex was perpetually sneering at….but what Milly loved best was the couple’s collection of atlases. Alex started making special trips to the university library to find special maps for her, maps that showed weird things like the annual rain fall of Mainland Spain or the concentration of bat populations in Alaska, and he hung them all close to the ground on his study walls so Milly didn’t have to climb into a chair to look at them. The day he took her on his lap in front of his computer and used Google Earth to show her a satellite image of their very own street would linger in the adult Milly’s memory forever as the afternoon that really changed her life. “I think we’ve found your life’s calling, Pix,” Alex said, as her fascinated childish hands clumsily moved the mouse to make the image zoom in and out. “Something tells me you’re not going to be content in your adulthood if you don’t have a reason to look at a map or satellite image everyday. We’ll have to send you to school, get you a PhD in geography…”

“What’s a PhD?” 

“It stands for “Philosophiæ Doctor”, which is Latin for “teacher of philosophy”. It’s the most advanced academic degree you can get in the United States. Geography PhDs spend a lot of time teaching other people where things are and why things are where they are. And some of them specialize in making new maps, which…” Alex smiled around the office, which was already liberally decorated with Milly’s various map-like representations of the neighborhood—“you’re already becoming a dab hand at.”

“Nobody in my family has ever gone to college,” Milly said. It was true. As yet, Milly only had the vaguest idea what college really was, but she knew that neither her grandmother nor her mother had ever gone there. Gabriella had started working straight out of high school.

“You will. Jobey and I will see to that.”

By the end of August, Alex and Milly had embarked on a special project: drawing a huge, 20 by 30 foot map of North America. They couldn’t find any paper large enough for the project, so they drew it straight onto the cement of Alex and Jobey’s basement floor, using big fat colored markers that Alex said were originally intended for the dry erase boards at his school. Jobey didn’t help—getting up and down from a cold floor was much too hard for him. But he cheerfully supported Alex and Milly’s efforts, making special runs to the store for supplies, and he always had a meal ready for them when they gave up for the day. At least once a week, the scent of Jobey’s homemade chili would waft down the stairs as they were finishing, and for the rest of her life, Milly would associate that scent with comfort and love. Jobey and Alex’s house was becoming more home-like than home.

It worried Abuela. If she was honest about it, the elderly lady was just as glad not to be Milly’s sole caretaker. But she always remained a little uncomfortable around Jobey and Alex, questioning Milly thoroughly whenever she came home about exactly what the two men had done and said, listening to Milly’s stories with a pursed-lipped frown. When Gabriella mentioned that she’d offered to pay the men for their babysitting services, and that Jobey had refused outright, Abuela’s discomfort erupted into outright suspicion. “But they’re grown men, Gabriella!” she protested, raising her hands in the air. “Don’t you think it’s a little…strange…that they are being so generous? Surely they must have something better to do with their time then look after a six year old girl!”

“I don’t know, Mama. Maybe they don’t.” Gabriella said. “Jobey’s retired, after all. And now that they’ve gotten the house all fixed up there really isn’t anything for Alex to do until school starts.”

“But—”

“Stop trying to find evil where there isn’t any, Momma,” Gabriella snapped. “Can you honestly say Milly’s worse off than she was before they came? Have you ever seen either of them hurt her in any way?” Abuela looked doubtful, but she shook her head. “No,” Gabriella said, settling back into the couch with a sigh. “Alex and Jobey are just a nice couple who like Milly and want to help us out. Besides, they’re new to Las Cruces, and I heard Jobey say something about how neither he nor Alex had any family left. Milly’s visits probably give them something to look forward to.” Gabriella shrugged her shoulders. “I think they’re lonely, if you want to know the truth.”

Milly thought about this later. She knew, with a child’s sometimes surprisingly accurate perception, that Alex and Jobey were indeed lonely. No one besides Alex’s boss at the university ever called the house, no friends or family ever came to visit. And apart from Gabriella, all the other grownups on the street treated the couple with frosty politeness at best and outright rudeness at worst. Milly was confused by this, since she knew Alex and Jobey were the nicest two people in the world, but then everything about the way grown-ups acted was confusing. Milly decided to ignore the problem for now. All she knew was, Alex and Jobey were the best friends she’d ever had in her life. And they were always, always glad to see her.

***

The rest of the summer flew by. In September Milly turned seven and started the second grade, something of which she was fiercely proud. Unfortunately, Abuela came down with a bad chest cold right after the school year began, a very serious one for a woman her age. She had to stay in bed for the better part of a month, and Gabriella was on pins and needles for weeks worrying that the cold was becoming pneumonia. When Jobey heard about this, he marched right over and insisted on driving Abuela to his own doctor to have Abuela’s lungs listened to and her chest thumped. Abuela protested wildly, but quickly discovered what Milly already knew: a determined Jobey was a force to be reckoned with. “You can’t take any risks at your age,” he told her sternly. “You know how badly Gabriella and the Sprout need you; what will they do if you have to go to the hospital? Besides.” He leaned in conspiratorially and switched to speaking fluent Spanish, a language Milly hadn’t even known Jobey knew until that very moment. “You do know that you and I are the only ones over fifty on this entire street, don’t you? If something happens to you, I’ll be left to cope with all these children on my own. I can’t let that happen, now can I?”

Abuela stared at him…and then a miraculous thing happened. She laughed. By late October, two more miracles had taken place. First, Abuela had gone to the doctor and was feeling better. Her chest cold was healed and she’d even started on a new medication that made her arthritis easier to bear. Second, Abuela’s suspicions of Jobey and Alex had entirely disappeared. It was as if, in Abuela’s mind, all the differences of race and gender and orientation had suddenly vanished. All she cared was that Jobey, too, was the caretaker of a family, doing his best to keep the house clean and Alex fed despite age and arthritis of his own. She was more than willing to agree that Jobey should watch Milly for a few hours after school everyday, and she and Jobey quickly struck up a deep if somewhat unusual friendship. Often while Milly was doing her homework at the dining room table with Alex, Abuela would be in the kitchen with Jobey, chattering away in Spanish about cooking and housekeeping and how hard it was to be the only two people on the block old enough to remember President Eisenhower. Alex would smirk to himself whenever he overheard one of these conversations, which was confusing, but Milly didn’t much care. She knew that if Abuela was willing to sit in Jobey’s kitchen, drinking his coffee and even sharing Auntie Carolita’s much-guarded secret tamale recipe, Jobey and Alex had officially become family. And that made her happy.

All in all, it was a golden fall. Gabriella got a small raise at work, which made some of the tight worried lines around her eyes and mouth disappear, despite the fact that she still walked with a small limp. Milly, thanks to Alex’s reading and Jobey’s help with her arithmetic homework, started doing better in school than she ever had. In late November, she got off the school bus eager to show Jobey her latest spelling test, which had two big golden stars affixed to the top. Much to her surprise, though, Jobey wasn’t on the front porch waiting for her, so Milly wandered through the house until she reached the living room. She was startled to hear Alex’s voice; he usually didn’t get home until five o’clock at least. Then Milly remembered that it was the Monday before Thanksgiving, and Alex had the entire week off from school, instead of just the last two days like Milly. He and Jobey seemed to be deep in conversation and very excited about something. “Do you remember this?” she heard Alex say.

“What? Oh, oh!” Yes, Jobey definitely sounded excited. “It’s the stuff from London. The ‘Adam and Joe’s First Christmas’ Box.”

Alex sounded happy. “Everyone around us…all our Watcher friends…were so sad that we didn’t have any holiday ornaments to put up for our first Christmas together. Well, our first Christmas together as a settled, out-of-the-closet-to-everyone couple, anyway. 1999, wasn’t it? They all brought something to decorate our flat…”

Jobey snickered. “Little did they know we had boxes of stuff in storage in Seacouver.”

“Speak for yourself, Jobey,” Alex said. “*You* were the one with boxes of stuff in storage in Seacouver, thanks to all those years you made Joe’s Bar look like a gingerbread house on steroids. *I* never saw the point in collecting holiday memorabilia, myself.”

“No, you never did, did you? Not even at the country house. Well, we’re here now, and all that’s going to change.” Jobey sounded determined. “This house is at least five times bigger than our London flat. We can finally get everything out of storage and buy a lot of new stuff, too. Decorate with…”

“Gay abandon?”

“I was going to say with true seasonal, American consumerist spirit, but I like the way you think.” 

“Are you going to wear a Santa hat for me later?”

“Only if you’re very, very good,” Jobey purred. “Go ahead. Open up the box.”

Milly heard the distinctive sound of strapping tape being pulled away from cardboard. She peaked around the archway just in time to see Alex holding up a Christmas tree ornament made in the shape of two men sitting together, one holding a guitar. The prisms hanging from the bottom edge twinkled merrily. “Our First Christmas” Alex read the inscription. “That was from Lindsey at the Great Library in Paris, remember? She and Mark must have had it custom made; it’s hardly typical holiday fair. And look…there’s the glass balls the Russells sent us from Italy, and the glass icicles from the Tokolavs, and those hideous dancing polar bears Mike Barette inflicted on us...”

“Hey! I like the dancing polar bears!”

“I know you do, Jobey,” Alex said patiently. “That’s why they’re in the box instead of a British landfill. Personally, I could never quite get used to the notion of an eighteen inch tall piece of plastic wildlife capable of swiveling its midsection like a belly dancer. But if you *must* have battery powered kitsch on the holiday mantle, I supposed the bears are less objectionable then some of the other things we could have.” He set the bears aside, picked up a porcelain disk painted with books and spectacles and the words “World’s Greatest Researcher.” “Look. This was a gift from Maya in the sword department. And this…” He drew out a glittering, golden egg, hanging from a silken ribbon. “From Amanda. Genuine Faberge.”

Jobey sniffed. “Stolen Faberge.”

“Most likely,” Alex agreed. “But it’s so pretty!” He dangled the ornament from his finger enticingly, letting the light play over the myriad gems encrusting its surface. Jobey remained unimpressed. “Jobey, you had better learn to treat the royal gems with respect. Or else Amanda will just steal them back when she visits.”

“Let her. I like these better.” Jobey said. He picked up a couple very obviously homemade cones of green construction paper with thick yarn hanging loops, liberally doused in poster paint and glittering confetti that was shedding all over the floor. Milly thought that they were meant to look like tiny Christmas trees, although it was a little hard to tell. “Remember?” Jobey said. “Cousin Margie’s oldest girl made these for us with her kids. It’s good to see that the family crafting talent is getting passed on.” He suddenly looked very sad.

“Something wrong, Jobey?” Alex asked, concerned.

“What? Oh, no. No, not really.” Jobey gestured at the pool of ornaments in front of them. “It’s just…we had some really good friends in our last life, that’s all.” Alex nodded. Jobey looked at him sadly. “Is it always this hard? Starting over?”

“Always,” Alex said somberly. “Especially around the holidays.” He wrapped his arm around Jobey’s shoulders. “But at least this time there’s still a few people who know the truth. Duncan e-mailed me this morning. He says he’d be delighted to spend Thanksgiving in the Southwest. And Amanda finally RSVP’d, too. She’s going to bring Nick, so we’ll have quite a full house.”

“Nick? Really?” Jobey looked surprised. “He’s finally forgiven her for killing him, then?”

“Apparently. Why else would she be bringing him home to meet the relatives?”

Jobey snorted. “Is that what we’ve become? The Immortal equivalent of great-grandma’s house?” 

“In a strange sort of way, I think we have. We’re the only ones that are really settled, after all. It wouldn’t surprise me if Immortal Thanksgiving at our place became an annual event.” 

“Just as long as everyone checks their swords at the door, I’ll be happy.”

“And miss the awesome sight of Mac carving the turkey with his katana? Really, Jobey, you’re still enough of a Watcher to want to see *that*…” 

Milly dropped her spelling paper. It only made a soft sound, but both men suddenly jumped and swung around, faces tense as they scanned the room for intruders. When they saw that it was only Milly, they both visibly relaxed. “Oh, it’s just the Pixie,” Alex said. “Come on in, Pix. How was school today?”

“Good. I wanted to show you this.” Milly held out her paper. 

Jobey took it and beamed. “Two gold stars, huh,” he said. “That’s my Sprout!” He set it carefully atop the piano. “Tell you what: we’ll put that up on the refrigerator later. Right now, you can help Alex put together the tree. And decorate it too, if you want.” He nodded at a green plastic Christmas tree, standing in pieces in one corner.

Milly frowned. “Isn’t it a little early? It’s only Thanksgiving.” 

“That’s-what-I-said,” Alex chimed, in an annoying sing song.

Jobey glared at him. “Maybe it is a little early, Sprout,” he admitted. “But none of our friends are going to be able to make it for Christmas proper, so *we*” --a pointed look in Alex’s direction—“thought we’d do a combined Christmas and Thanksgiving celebration. It’s going to take a while to get this place into shape, so…” Jobey reached into the box, scooping out a trailing mass of paper garland, which he shoved into Milly and Alex’s hands. “Start hangin’.”

Dutifully, Milly and Alex hung, and by the time Milly left to go home the living room had been transformed into a veritable Winter Wonderland. Jobey didn’t stop there, though. Over the next three days he spent a small fortune, decking the little house with boughs of artificial holly and string after string of Christmas lights. He even invested in a huge six foot plastic Santa Clause which he proudly set up in the middle of the front yard. Alex said that the Santa was the tackiest holiday decoration he’d ever seen, and privately Milly agreed, although she would never have hurt Jobey’s feelings by saying so out loud. Still, she had to admit the humungous plastic Santa had its uses. In particular, it made a great place for a small girl to hide the afternoon that Alex and Jobey’s guests arrived. 

Milly had been curious about these guests, this “Duncan” and “Amanda” and “Nick” ever since Jobey and Alex had first told her they were coming. She knew she’d be introduced to them eventually—Alex and Jobey had invited her, along with Abuela and Gabriella, to Thanksgiving Dinner the very next day. But Milly was too impatient to wait, and so she hid behind the Santa the moment she saw Alex come out onto the front porch, wearing a festive “Ho³” t-shirt. Alex had a cell phone pressed to his ear, giving directions: “No, no, I’m glad you called. It’s easy to get lost in the streets around here…yes, well, that’s Duncan all over for you, isn’t it? Tell him from me that ‘Death before Dishonor’ was never meant to apply to asking for directions…you’re turned around now? Good…now turn left at that stop sign…now right at the yellow house…there, can you see me? I’m waving…” He raised an arm, waving it in large circles in the air. A second later a large Toyota SUV pulled up to the curb, rental sticker plain in the back window. The door opened and a woman with dark hair emerged, jumping to the sidewalk before the car had even come to a complete stop. She sprinted across the lawn and up the porch steps with a merry shout, throwing her arms around Alex with exuberant glee. “Adam! Adam! It’s so good to see you!”

Milly stared in astonishment. The woman was, quite frankly, unlike anyone Milly had ever seen in real life before. She was clad in the clothes of a famous actress or rock star, from the luxurious low-necked cashmere sweater to the very shiny, very high heeled leather boots. Her makeup was perfect, as were the shoulder length waves of brown hair that framed her face. “It’s Alex, now,” Alex corrected quietly.

For a moment the woman looked worried. Then she nodded, smiled brilliantly, and squeezed Alex with all the strength of a bear. Alex “oofed” softly. “Of course, ‘Alex’,” she said. “I’ll be good and remember from now on.” She patted his tummy flirtatiously. “You look so good, darling! Put on a few pounds, if I’m not mistaken. Being an old married man clearly agrees with you.” 

“Don’t get too self righteous, Amanda. I’ve heard rumors that wedded bliss may not be that far away for you, either.” Alex nodded at the SUV, where a tall man with brilliant blue eyes was just opening the back hatch. He was quickly joined by another tall, broad-shouldered man, although this one kept his back to the house so Milly couldn’t tell what color his eyes were. “Shouldn’t we help your ammiratori with the luggage?” Alex asked.

“Heavens, no,” Amanda said. “They’ve been trying to out macho each other ever since we first met up. You’ll break their hearts if you don’t let them compete to see who can carry the most suitcases. Besides. I’d rather steal a few moments alone with you.” She gave Alex another squeeze, much more gently this time. Her face settled into more serious lines. “I mean it, ‘Alex.’ It really is good to see you. It’s…it’s been lonely without you.”

“I know. It’s been lonely for us, too,” Alex said, just as seriously. “But you know how it is, when you’re starting a new life. We couldn’t risk an earlier visit. Not until we knew for sure our disappearance had been believed.” Amanda nodded soberly. Alex looked around the yard with a frown. “You three *did* manage to give your Watchers the slip, didn’t you?”

“Of course!” Amanda pouted prettily. “Really, dear, you *are* getting paranoid in your old age…”

“Amanda, paranoia is the entire reason I got to be this old in the first place.”

“…if you think that I’d ever risk your safety,” Amanda continued, utterly ignoring Alex’s interruption. “Duncan shook off his Watcher before he even left Heathrow, and then he helped Nick and me deal with ours before we left New York. Everything went according to plan.” She smiled broadly. “You should have been there, darling! Jason—that’s the new Watcher they assigned to me and Nick, such a dear boy, although sometimes I wonder if he’s really experienced enough to be Watching a wily old thing like me—was so appalled by our distraction that he never even noticed me slipping behind him with the chloroform. We took him back to our apartment and left him on the couch with a note asking him to lock up before he left.”

Alex smirked. “And what was this distraction?”

“Oh, darling, it was so brilliant! You would have loved it,” Amanda gushed. “It seems that one Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod finally came to his senses and decided he wanted me back. He and Nick staged quite the thrilling fight, all under the pretense that the winner would get free access to me. Jason was so shocked he could barely look up from the notes he was taking long enough to watch the battle.” Another pout. “It’s too bad that you and Joe—er, Jobey—no longer have access to the Chronicles. I can’t wait to see what the boy writes up. It’s going to be the talk of Watcher water coolers on at least three continents, don’t you think? Unless Jason figured out that it was all a trick.”

A sly smile from Alex. “What makes you think I no longer have access?”

Amanda laughed with glee. “You darling man! I *knew* you were still connected somehow. I told Duncan so in the car. Very well. After lunch let’s boot up your computer and check out all the gossip.” She frowned. “You *are* going to feed us, aren’t you?”

“Of course. Jobey’s been working in the kitchen all morning. He had to take something out of the oven, or he’d be here now…” 

“It’s out. And it’s going to be wonderful, if I do say so myself,” Jobey interrupted, coming onto the porch. His t-shirt read: “Many People Have Eaten My Cooking And Gone On To Live Perfectly Normal Lives.” “Well, hello there, gorgeous! You’re a sight for sore eyes.” Amanda squealed and kissed both of Jobey’s cheeks, leaving two lipstick smears that Jobey didn’t seem to mind at all. He nodded at her hair. “I see you’ve gone back to your natural color. Or is that the natural color?”

“Pooh, Jobey, who can remember what was natural anymore?”

“I can,” Alex said softly. “I knew you when Rebecca had just taken you in, remember?”

“Yes, and thankfully, you’re the only one left who does,” Amanda returned flippantly. “And don’t you dare go writing up the real answer in the Chronicles for the sake of historical accuracy, either. A lady must have *some* secrets.” She turned back to Jobey. “Jobey, this brunette isn’t natural. I would never have the patience to grow it out. You’re looking at ‘Decadent Darkness Number Five’. I think it suits me, don’t you?”

“It does,” Jobey agreed. “But I can’t think of a look that wouldn’t, Amanda. Any era of clothing, any hair color, and you always manage to outshine every other woman in the room.” Amanda preened. Jobey quirked an eyebrow at Alex. “Although this time the Sprout might very well give you a run for your money, right Alex?”

Alex chuckled. Amanda frowned. “The Sprout?” she repeated. “I’m in competition with a vegetable?”

“That’s what I call our little next door neighbor. Seven years old and bright as a button,” Jobey said. “You’ll fall in love, I guarantee it.” He slipped an arm around her waist. “Now, come inside. I’ll give you the ten cent tour.”

Jobey and Amanda disappeared from view. A moment later the blue-eyed man arrived on the porch, bent nearly double under a weight of feminine suitcases. Alex, clearly trying to suppress a laugh, held the door open and waved him in with a little bow. The blue-eyed man threw him a sheepish grin before he, too, disappeared inside. Which just left the final member of the new arrivals, clad in a long dark overcoat, removing still more luggage from the back of the SUV. Alex heaved a heavy sigh Milly was sure he would never have used if he’d known anyone was listening, then strode across the lawn to the car. His hands were in his pockets and his shoulders were shrugged up high around his ears. “Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod,” he said softly. “Mi casa es su casa. Once again.”

There was a long moment of silence. Then the tall man turned around, and Milly would have gasped if she hadn’t been trying so hard to be quiet. She’d honestly never seen a man so handsome, not even on Abuela’s favorite Spanish-language soap opera. Short dark hair framed a very beautiful, very manly face, a face which contained a lovely pair of chocolate eyes unlike anything Milly had ever seen. But the eyes didn’t look happy as they gazed at Alex, sweeping over him from head to toe. In fact, they looked rather sad. “Methos,” the newcomer said stiffly. “Shouldn’t that be ‘*Our* house is your house’, now?”

“Oh, I took Joe for granted in the ‘mi’,” Alex said easily. “These days we’re pretty much two halves of the same person, anyway.” Mr. MacLeod nodded, turning back toward the car. Alex looked uncomfortable. “We were both very sorry to hear that Kate couldn’t join us.”

Mr. MacLeod glanced up from the luggage, a pained expression on his face. “No, you weren’t,” he said.

“No,” Alex agreed, nodding. “All right, if you insist, no we weren’t. Neither of us exactly have warm and fuzzy feelings for the girl, given who she was dating before she shacked up again with you. But don’t you dare tell Jobey I said so. He made me swear I was going to at least start out this gathering by being ‘civilized’.” Mr. MacLeod raised his eyebrows, and Alex shrugged in self-deprecating kind of way. “He’d be terribly disappointed to know that you caught me being impolitely honest before you even crossed the threshold.” 

They stared at each other for a long, tense moment…and then Mr. MacLeod chuckled. It caused his entire face to soften wonderfully, a dancing twinkle coming into the brown eyes. Milly was glad to see it. Alex, for his part, seemed glad to see it, too. His whole body relaxed, and a light came into his hazel eyes that answered the one in the brown. “Come, Highlander,” he said, closing the SUV hatch with an emphatic thud. “Leave the rest of the bags. I’m sure young Nick will be more than happy to get them later; Amanda seems to have him very well trained. Right now I want to show you the house. Jobey will be heartbroken if you don’t have a chance to admire all his holiday decorations before lunch.”

Mr. MacLeod’s eyes scanned the yard, from the lights to the Santa Clause. Milly tried to make herself very small. “He really is taking this holiday spirit thing seriously, isn’t he?” 

“Wait until you see what he has planned for dinner tomorrow. I can barely set foot in the kitchen for all the food he’s laid in.” Alex shook a finger warningly. “You’d better be prepared to eat half your weight in pumpkin pie, Highlander. Jobey’s been researching recipes online for weeks.”

Mr. MacLeod laughed. “Funny how things work out,” he said. “If you’d told me ten years ago that I’d be eating a traditional American Thanksgiving dinner in a décor-draped New Mexican home with you, Joe, Amanda, and Amanda’s new boyfriend, who just happens to be an ex-cop…”

“What? You mean to tell me that you didn’t have it all penciled in to your long term diary?”

“Hardly.” They started walking toward the house. Just as they reached the porch steps Mr. MacLeod stopped and turned to Alex, placing one hand on Alex’s arm. “It’s—it’s good to be here, Methos. I mean that. Thank you for inviting me.”

A look of indescribable tenderness came over Alex’s face, a look Milly had only ever seen him give to Jobey in the past. For a moment she thought Alex was going to hug this stranger, but he just patted him affectionately on the arm. “You are very welcome, Highlander. Come inside, now. If you can brave the kitsch, I’ll show you where you’re going to sleep. Unfortunately, Amanda and Nick have our only guest bedroom…”

“Then where are you going to put me? The bathtub?”

“You are going to have the unprecedented honor of sleeping on the pull-out sofa in my study. Just think of all the fun you can have trying to guess my computer passwords after everyone else has gone to bed.” The two men disappeared inside the house. And Milly, knowing she wasn’t invited until tomorrow, reluctantly went home.

***

Thanksgiving Day dawned clear and bright. Milly took advantage of the school holiday to sleep in…but the moment the noon hour had come and gone she dressed up, slipping into the frilly white eyelet covered dress and patent leather shoes that were her all-purpose special occasion clothes. Abuela joined her, wearing her own frilly special-occasion dress and a suspiciously strong hint of perfume behind her ears. They walked next door together, Abuela carrying a grocery sack that contained a large bag of flour and a carton of eggs, “just in case Jobey needs help with the cooking, poor man”. It was a precaution that proved to be precognizant, as a very flustered, flour-covered Jobey met them at the door. The moment he saw them, he said “Thank god you’re here, Margaretta. What do you know about pumpkin pie?” and whisked Abuela off to the kitchen. Milly, who knew what was coming—endless, boring grown-up discussion of crusts and filling ingredients and cooking times—chose not to follow. Instead she went looking for Alex. She wanted to show off her dress. 

Alex wasn’t in the living room and he wasn’t in his study, nor was he down at the street getting the morning mail. Milly skipped around the house into the back garden—only to stop dead in her tracks when she found that Mr. MacLeod was lounging on Alex’s usual bench, apparently absorbed in the newspaper he was reading. A flush came to Milly’s cheeks. Her uncomfortable awareness of Mr. MacLeod’s beauty made her even more shy than usual, and she never felt at ease talking to strangers. She hung back for a moment, shielded by the large aspen tree Alex had planted to shade the back deck. Then Alex appeared, looking sweaty and warm and *much* too tired for what was only one o’clock on a holiday afternoon. He didn’t see Milly as he crossed the deck, flopping down into the chair at Mr. MacLeod’s side with a theatrical wipe of his forehead. “Whew!” he said. “Congratulations, Highlander. I see you’ve found the one quiet spot in the homestead. Very sensible of you. The kitchen looks like a war zone.”

Mr. MacLeod shrugged. “That was always my game plan, on those rare occasions Tessa wanted to cook for company,” he said. “I’d make sure the cupboard was stocked and then find some place out of the line of fire to wait.” 

“Smart man. I should have followed your example from the start,” Alex said wryly. “Honestly. Jobey’s survived a war, run a bookstore, owned two bars, and hosted at least a dozen blues festivals. And yet the prospect of cooking one Thanksgiving dinner has completely thrown him for a loop. Do you know he got up at four thirty this morning to start the turkey?” Mr. MacLeod just smiled and shook his head. Alex peered around the yard curiously. “Where have Nick and Amanda gone?”

“They took the rental car and drove into town. Amanda remembered a Spanish colonial church in the area where she once hid some ill-gotten gains. She wanted to show Nick a piece of her past, provided it’s still standing.”

“You didn’t want to go with them?”

“Truthfully? God, no,” Mr. MacLeod said ruefully. “Don’t tell Amanda this, but I got my fill of them on the trip down. All they do is bicker one minute and bill and coo the next. They’re…”

“Ridiculously in love with each other,” Alex finished. “Yes, I know. I noticed.” He gazed into the distance fondly. “Whoever would have thought our Amanda would actually settle down?”

“Not me.”

“Do I detect a hint of the green eyed monster, Highlander?”

“Am I jealous, you mean? No. No, not really,” Mr. MacLeod said thoughtfully. “I love Amanda, you know that. So does she. But we could never make it work for longer than a few months at best. And then only if those months took place in the Caribbean somewhere, and I was the one picking up the tab.” Alex chuckled softly. MacLeod looked at him, an inscrutable expression falling over his face. “Truth be told, Methos, I’m much more likely to be jealous of Joe and you.”

Milly thought she saw Alex stiffen slightly, but his voice remained light. “Are the advantages of the homosexual lifestyle finally beginning to grow on you, Highlander?”

“Not exactly, no,” Mr. MacLeod said, with a definite shake of his head. “But you and Joe seem very happy.”

“We seem that way because we are.”

“I know. It’s pretty obvious, really. I’ve never seen two people who fit together as well as the two of you.” Mr. MacLeod looked sad. “I had my doubts about you making it as a couple, you know.”

Alex looked amused. “Really? Do tell. I had absolutely no idea.” 

Mr. MacLeod rolled his eyes. “Methos, adjust your kilt. Your sarcasm is showing.” Alex snickered and settled himself more comfortably in his chair. “All right. So I didn’t exactly go out of my way to hide my skepticism,” Mr. MacLeod said. “But I didn’t really get worried until Amanda told me that you’d decided to restart your lives over here. It didn’t seem to me that any two people could really handle giving up everything and everyone they loved just to be together. I didn’t think you’d stick it out.” Alex raised his eyebrows, and Mr. MacLeod shot him an uncomfortable look. “Don’t get me wrong, Methos. I know how much you and Joe love each other. But changing lives is hard enough for *us*, and Joe’s mortal. I didn’t know how he’d handle it, that’s all.” 

For a moment Alex looked furious. Then he bent his head, and Milly saw the irritation drain from his features, replaced with resignation. “It hasn’t been easy,” he admitted quietly. “Especially not for Joe. But we’ve gotten pretty good at taking it one day at a time. And there are compensations.”

“Like being together, you mean.”

“Yes,” Alex nodded. “Being together in a place where nobody wonders aloud how I’m keeping my hair so well is particularly nice. And it’s good to be away from the Watchers, too. Even if it does feel strange to look at my wrist and not see the tattoo.” Alex looked unhappy for a moment, then he smiled a brilliant smile. “After all, for the first time since we’ve been together, Jobey and I finally have the freedom to invite our Immortal family over for Thanksgiving. We never could have gotten away with that in London. Too many prying Watcher eyes.” 

“Is that what we are now?” There was an odd tension in Mr. MacLeod’s voice. “Family?”

“Can you think of a better word? Jobey certainly thinks of you as the son he never had.” 

“I know.” Mr. MacLeod sighed ruefully. “That bear hug he gave me when I walked in yesterday made me feel heartily ashamed of myself.”

“Good heavens, why?”

“Lots of reasons. You want the whole list?” Alex nodded softly. Mr. MacLeod looked grim. “Because I never made the time to visit you two after you moved to London, at least not until I needed you to help me find Connor. Because after Connor died I tried to disappear into a world that only included me and Kate, and I forgot that Joe would be well into his middle age by the time I got back. Because I was actually stupid enough to think that Kate and I might have a chance at having what you two do, despite the fact that she led me through four years of merry hell before taking off for South America…”

“Ah.” Alex looked sympathetic. “It’s off for good, then? She didn’t just want to avoid Thanksgiving with the in-laws? Jobey and I did wonder, when you e-mailed that you were coming alone.”

Mr. MacLeod waved his hand airily. “God only knows. She might come back, she might not. At this point I’m finding it hard to care one way or another.” He gave Alex a tight little shrug. “It’s just another reason to feel ashamed of myself, isn’t it? Kate runs away and all I can feel is relieved, while you and Joe give up everything you knew just to be together…”

“There’s no need to be ashamed, Highlander,” Alex said firmly. “What Jobey and I have is rare. You found it once, with Tessa. You’ll find it again.”

“Ah, but you haven’t heard the worst part of it yet,” Mr. MacLeod answered. “It’s not just because I was a stupid idiot over Kate that Joe’s affection makes me feel ashamed, Methos. It’s because I’m actually selfish enough to be jealous of the happiness you two have found, even though I know better than anyone alive just what hells you both had to live through to get it. And because…” Mr. MacLeod’s voice trailed off. When he spoke again, his voice was very soft. “Because even after all this time, I’m still in love with his husband.”

There was a long silence. Then Alex, his face a mask of deep pity and some other emotion Milly couldn’t quite identify, very solemnly got up. He sat down next to Mr. MacLeod on the bench. And then he kissed him gently on the lips. 

It lasted for a long time, during which Milly grew more and more incensed. All right, so she didn’t understand grown ups. How could she, when nobody would ever explain anything to her? But she knew deep in her heart that Alex belonged to Jobey, and seeing him kiss somebody else made her feel hot and angry inside, like her hero was doing something very, very wrong. She watched the handsome usurper lightly curl his fingers over Alex’s shoulders, touching him without quite daring to pull him close, and when the kiss ended Alex lightly rested his head against Mr. MacLeod’s shoulder. “It isn’t me, you know,” he said. “Not really me you’re longing for. It’s just been a very, very bad decade for you, that’s all. You’re lonely. Trying to figure out where you fit in a world that’s changed too fast.”

“I guess you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you, old man.” 

“I certainly would,” Alex said. “That’s why I know for sure that the loneliness won’t last.” He straightened up. “It *will* get better, Highlander. In the meantime, I must apologize. Being around two obscenely happy couples is hardly the world’s best therapy for a man who’s just ended a relationship. Jobey and I will do our best not to make any embarrassing public displays, but Nick and Amanda…”

“Can’t see beyond the edge of their own two noses right now,” Mr. MacLeod said with a sigh. “Yes, I know. I guess I can’t complain too much. I’m sure I’ve inflicted the same pain on others in the past.” 

Alex snorted. “Well, *I* certainly remember being tossed out on my bum a few times so you could cuddle with Amanda. In cold weather, too.”

“We weren’t very subtle, were we.” Alex shook his head, eyes twinkling. Mr. MacLeod regarded him for a long moment. “Methos, it isn’t just loneliness,” he said. “You have to know…”

“Yes, Duncan. I know.” Alex patted Mr. MacLeod on the hand and got to his feet. “Let’s not talk about this anymore. I have great confidence that Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod will live to love again. If you go so much as a decade without falling for some lovely lady or other, I will personally eat my sword. And even if you don’t…well, today is hardly the day for long term planning. I’d put my energies into looking forward to one bang-up Thanksgiving Day dinner instead, if I were you. If you’re very good and promise not to brood at least until the pumpkin pie is served, I’ll even let you help me set the table.”

Mr. MacLeod’s lips curved slightly. “You are all generosity, Methos.”

“I know. Quite a change, isn’t it? Perhaps Jobey is being successful at civilizing me after all,” Alex quipped, and fondly tugged at Mr. MacLeod’s lapels. “I mean it, Highlander. No brooding. Make up your mind to enjoy a nice evening with your friends. The future can wait. In the meantime you can help me figure out how many forks we need for each course, and…” He turned his head around and stared right into the tree. “And you can meet my Pixie. You’ll like her; she disapproves of my frivolous ways almost as much as you do.” He raised his voice. “Come on out, Pix. I know you’re hiding back there somewhere.”

Reluctantly, Milly stepped out, letting the leaves trail over her hair as she did. “How did you know I was there?”

“Easy. Whenever I feel a pair of eyes staring up at me from waist-level, I know my Pixie’s near,” Alex said. He walked over to her, put his hands on her shoulders and steered her over step by step to Mr. MacLeod. “Don’t be shy, Pix. Mr. MacLeod likes pretty girls.”

Mr. MacLeod did indeed like pretty girls, and was remarkably proficient at talking to the seven-year-old variety. It really wasn’t his fault that Milly was too roiled up inside by what she’d seen to be equally friendly back. After a few minutes of awkward questions about school and whether or not Milly had any brothers or sisters, Milly said she wanted to help Jobey. After a long, thoughtful look, Alex let her go. Milly went into the kitchen, where she found Jobey and Abuela standing forehead to forehead over a large mixing bowl. Jobey was frowning at the contents. “This doesn’t look right,” he said.

“It needs more cream.”

“I don’t think I have any more. I put it all in the biscuit dough.”

Abuela laughed. “Men never think ahead,” she said, clapping Joe lightly on the back with her wrinkled hand. “I have some extra in my refrigerator at home. I’ll go get it.” She bustled out of the kitchen, almost running into Milly. “Millicent Carolita Margaretta Dido Alfonso! Where have you been? You have leaves in your hair.”

Milly made a face. “Just in the garden, Abuela. With Alex and Mr. MacLeod.”

“Well, ask your mother to comb your hair before we sit down at the table. Santa Maria! I don’t know what gets into you children these days…” 

Abuela rushed out the door and up the sidewalk, and Milly flopped down in a chair at the flour-covered table, her legs swinging unhappily above the floor. “Hey, Sprout,” Jobey said, frowning as he tasted the mess in the pan. “What’s the long face for? You don’t have to comb your hair for me. I think the leaves make you look very festive.”

“How many names do you have?”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Milly said, much too grouchy to be polite. “Your name is Jobey, but Mr. MacLeod keeps calling you Joe. Alex does too, sometimes. And you call him Alex and Adam and Methos. And Old Man, too, which makes no sense, ‘cause he’s lots and *lots* younger than you.”

“Oh. I see.” For a moment Jobey looked completely flabbergasted. Then he shook his head. “Well, it’s really not that different from you, Milly. You have lots of names, too.”

“I do?”

“You do,” Jobey nodded. “At school you’re Milly, right? But at home your mom calls you Millicent, and your grandma uses all your names at once when she’s mad at you—I know, I just heard her. And to Alex you’re Pixie, and to me you’re Sprout or Half-Pint or Mills. All kinds of people have more than one name. Calling you by different names is a way for the people who love you to show that they care.”

“Oh.” Milly thought about this. It did make a kind of sense. She started to lean forward. Jobey silently handed her a towel, which she spread on the table to keep her dress sleeves out of the flour. She decided to voice her next concern. “I saw Alex kissing Mr. MacLeod.”

“Mmmm?” Jobey had gone back to stirring the pie filling. He seemed very distracted. “Did you?”

Milly did not think he was taking her seriously. “On the lips,” she spelled out. “Like—” She lowered her voice uneasily. “Like men and women in the movies.”

“Did he?” Again, Jobey seemed annoyingly immune to the import of this statement. He added a pinch of all spice. “Well, that makes sense. It’s been a long time since they’ve seen each other. I’m glad they’re actually getting along.”

Milly made a frustrated gesture, banging her hands down on the table. Her childish fingers accidentally caught the edge of a spoon, and it spun up into the air, landing on the table again with a loud clatter and a puff of floury dust. Jobey looked at her, surprised. “You don’t understand! Alex was *kissing* him.”

“Yes?”

“It’s not right!” Milly exclaimed. “Alex is *your* sweetheart. I know I’m not supposed to know, but I do.” She dropped her chin dejectedly into her hands, heedless of the way the ends of her braids picked up flour and dough. “You’re the only one Alex is supposed to kiss like that.”

“Oh. I see.” For a moment Jobey looked very disconcerted. “I—you’ve seen me and Alex kissing, have you?”

Suddenly sure that she was going to get a lecture for spying, Milly nodded. Jobey sighed. “You do see a lot, don’t you, Little Big Eyes,” he said. “Well—yes. Alex and I are sweethearts, have been for a very long time. And we love each other very, very much. But Alex and Mr. MacLeod have known each other for a long time, too. They’re…very special friends, no matter how much arguing they seem to do. Sometimes they express that friendship with a kiss, that’s all.”

Mille stared at the older man, very confused. “But don’t you mind?”

“Honey, I fought that battle to a draw a long time back,” Jobey said, and when Milly continued to look blank he sat down in the chair across the table, looking seriously into her eyes. “Milly, when you grow up, someday you will meet your own sweetheart, the person who will become the most important person in your life. If you’re very lucky, you’ll be together long enough that he or she becomes a part of you, as much a part of you as your own hands or feet. When that happens…well, you’ll trust that person absolutely, because not trusting them is like not trusting yourself. Alex and I have been through a lot together, honey. If he kissed Duncan just now, I know he must have had a good reason for doing it. Because I learned a long time ago that he’d never intentionally hurt me in any way. Do you understand?”

Milly didn’t. She shook her head slowly, and Jobey smiled. “Never mind,” he said. “It’s grown-up stuff. Ask me again in a few years. In the meantime, why don’t you help me roll out this biscuit dough? Your grandma says you’re getting to be very good with a rolling pin.”

Milly nodded, and Jobey helped set her up with the rolling pin and marble, placing a phonebook in the chair so she could get up high enough to actually use the heavy wooden pin effectively. Yes, grown-up stuff really was confusing. But she had one more question. “Jobey?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Alex isn’t going to run off with Mr. MacLeod then? Like my daddy did with Miss Cherry? He’s not…” She sought hard in her memory for the half-remembered phrase she wasn’t really supposed to have heard her mother use in the first place. “A man-stealing floozy?”

Jobey’s bark of laughter was as loud as it was absolutely mystifying to the small girl at the table. “No, sweetheart,” he said. “Duncan MacLeod may be many things, but a man-stealing floozy he isn’t. And Alex isn’t going anywhere. Believe me.” Jobey chucked Milly under the chin fondly, adding a streak of pumpkin pie filling to the flour, dough, leaves and other assorted decorations. “How could he, when the two of you still have to finish your map in the basement? Now, forget all this grown up stuff and concentrate on rolling out those biscuits, or we’ll end up having them for desert instead of dinner.” And Milly got to work, still confused but feeling very consoled.

***

The rest of the day went very well, although there were a few awkward moments when Alex first introduced Miss Deveroux and Mr. Wolfe to Abuela. Abuela took one look at Amanda’s flashy spike heels and leather pants and didn’t quite sniff audibly, but Milly knew that she wanted to. Abuela was polite but distant with Mr. Wolfe, but when Mr. MacLeod wandered in her eyes brightened. “Mr. MacLeod,” she said happily, putting her hands on his arm. “You are an old friend of Alex’s, I think?”

“Actually, I knew Jobey first.”

“Are you gay, too?”

The question caused quite a stir. Jobey abruptly turned away, and Milly could tell that he was trying to hide his laughter. Alex smirked. Miss Deveroux stared with arching eyebrows, and Mr. Wolfe looked baffled. But Mr. MacLeod just cleared his throat. “Um, no,” he said. “Not exactly.”

Before Abuela could ask what ‘not exactly’ meant, Alex stepped in. “We must all be extra kind to Mr. MacLeod this holiday, Abuela,” he said. “He is just getting over a rather painful divorce.”

“From a woman?” Abuela asked innocently, and this time all the assembled grownups laughed aloud. “Well, I never know these days!” Abuela protested. She looked up into Mr. MacLeod’s face. “Who could possibly want to divorce a handsome man like you?”

“Um, well…”

“Never mind. Whoever she was, she obviously wasn’t the right one.” Abuela patted Mr. MacLeod’s arm. “You will sit next to my Gabriella at dinner—that’s Millicent’s mother, has Alex told you about her? She’s single too, you will have lots to talk about…” 

And she led Mr. MacLeod back into the kitchen while she continued to enumerate Gabriella’s many gifts, despite the fact that Mr. MacLeod kept glancing backward, looking remarkably like a man being led to the gallows. “Oh dear,” Miss Deveroux said in a low tone when they had disappeared. “Should I go rescue him?”

“In a minute. Margaretta’s been much too good a neighbor to risk hurting her feelings,” Jobey said. He glared at his partner. “You, my love, are devious.”

“Pardon me?”

“Don’t play innocent with me. ‘Just getting over a painful divorce’ indeed. Margaretta is an incurable matchmaker. You knew telling her about Mac would be like waving catnip in front of a cat.”

“It’s true, isn’t it?” Alex protested. “And Duncan will make a charming seating companion for Gabriella. So it all works out.” He slipped an arm around Jobey’s shoulders. “I don’t always have an ulterior motive for everything I do, you know.”

“Uh-huh. Sure. Of course you don’t.” 

When dinner came, Milly was pleased that Alex let her sit at their big dining room table with all the other grown ups, instead of banishing her to a children’s table in another room. In fact, Alex gave her a conspiratorial smile and whispered that he’d saved her the best seat in the house, putting a dictionary and cushion in the chair at his own right hand. Gabriella, who arrived late, sat on Alex’s left with Mr. MacLeod on her other side. It was an arrangement that left Gabriella flushed and rather quieter than usual, especially whenever Mr. MacLeod attentively passed her a new dish or offered to top up her wine. Fortunately, Mr. MacLeod turned out to be just as fluent in Spanish as Alex and Jobey, and he gently drew Gabriella out with questions about her job and interests. By the time they’d reached the second course, Gabriella was smiling and talking unreservedly, as was everyone else at the table. Even Mr. Wolfe, who alone out of the grownups at the table barely spoke enough Spanish to get by, didn’t hesitate to contribute, and his attempts at making himself understood were met with lots of good-natured teasing and jokes. Milly couldn’t always understand what the jokes were about, but she could easily understand the laughter. She decided to just sit back and enjoy it all, especially the way that Alex kept passing her dishes just as if she really was grown up, never saying a word when she took larger helpings than she could possibly eat. 

On the whole, it was a meal to remember.

***

Mr. MacLeod left just a few days later, citing business he had to attend to. Milly couldn’t help but notice that Alex looked very sad when he returned from dropping him off at the airport, a sadness that didn’t completely vanish for several days. But Amanda and Mr. Wolfe stayed on, crammed as they were into Alex and Jobey’s tiny spare bedroom. Together, they made the weeks leading up to Christmas a very memorable time. 

At first, Milly resented the lengthy intrusion. She still thought of Alex and Jobey as her personal property, and she didn’t much want to share. But Nick and Amanda proved to be such good company that her resentment quickly dropped away. Nick taught Milly how to dribble a basketball in Alex and Jobey’s driveway, and Amanda allowed Milly the free run of her luggage and jewelry case. Milly discovered that she rather liked Amanda’s breezy, affectionate manner, and she DEFINITELY liked being allowed to play dress-up with Amanda’s clothes. “Good heavens,” Jobey said one afternoon, when Milly had wobbled into the kitchen resplendent in lipstick, three diamond necklaces, a short silken robe, and a pair of Amanda’s best stiletto heels. “What on earth have you been doing to the child, Amanda?”

“Simply preparing her for womanhood, darling,” Amanda said innocently. She, too, was wearing a silk bathrobe, but her shoulder-length dark hair was swept up into an elegant twist on the back of her head, and she was bedecked in enough glittering gems to easily outshine your average opera house chandelier. She’d let Milly apply her makeup and paint her fingernails, and if the result was rather more…dramatic…than flattering, neither Joe nor Amanda mentioned it. (Milly, for her part, thought Amanda looked beautiful, just like a fairy-tale princess.) “Learning to make the most of one’s feminine charms takes practice, Jobey. It’s about time young Millicent started learning what she’ll need to know.”

“What she needs to know. Uh-huh.” Joe looked at the necklaces garlanding Milly’s throat suspiciously. “You aren’t teaching the girl any of your *special* skills, now are you?”

“Jobey Darwin! What do you take me for?” Jobey simply looked her over and grinned. Amanda flopped into a chair. “No, I’m afraid this morning’s lessons were strictly confined to hairstyling and makeup tips. But what a good idea. I could always break out my spare, ah, toolset and give Milly some lessons in using it. A girl never knows when she might be confronted with a stubborn jewelry box lock…”

“Don’t you dare!” Jobey exclaimed. Amanda smirked, well satisfied. Jobey rolled his eyes. “All right, all right, I’ll stay out of it. Far be it for me to interfere in the passing down of feminine secrets. Just be sure to wash her face before she goes home, all right? I don’t want to hear what Gabriella will have to say if she sees her looking like that.”

Amanda discovered the map in the basement the first week in December, and both she and Nick put in several hours working on it, coloring and drawing in rivers and mountains. Amanda labeled the major cities in a beautiful calligraphic script that Nick seemed very surprised she knew. Alex, however, just looked at the map affectionately, said “And to think that Rebecca once despaired of ever teaching you to read, let alone write”…and then quickly ducked when Amanda threw a marker at him. The week after that, Amanda invented Capital City Twister. Jobey would draw the names of state capitals out of a hat and a body part out of a shoe while Milly, Alex, Amanda and Nick all scrambled to match body part to city. More often than not, they’d end up in a laughing, squirming heap on the floor, which to Milly’s mind was the whole reason the game was played. They’d play until it was time for Milly to go, at which point Amanda would take Milly aside and kiss both her cheeks. “Be sure to come back tomorrow, ma petite,” she’d say. “You have no idea what good medicine you are for us old-timers.” And Milly would blush and run home. 

When Nick and Amanda finally went back to Toronto the week before Christmas, Nick driving the rented Toyota Highlander while Amanda hung out the window blowing kisses, Alex and Jobey’s house suddenly felt much too big. Judging by the amount of time Alex and Jobey spent standing on the porch with their arms wrapped around each other, staring down the street after the SUV had disappeared, Milly decided she wasn’t the only one to think so. She walked up behind the men and tugged insistently on both their shirts until they parted. Then she pushed her way into the middle of their embrace. “You still have *me*,” she said insistently, wrapping her arms around both men’s thighs. “You don’t have to be lonely as long as you have me.”

A long beat passed while the two men looked at each other. Then Jobey squeezed her shoulder. “Of course not,” he said, looking deeply into Alex’s eyes. “We can’t be lonely if our Sprout’s around. Can we, Alex?”

“Absolutely not,” Alex affirmed. He reached out and ruffled Milly’s hair. “Why, the very idea is unthinkable.”

***

After months of deliberation, Abuela and Gabriella had finally decided to give a kitchen herb garden kit to Jobey and a tie printed with books and pens to Alex for the holidays. The men were presented with them during dinner on Christmas Eve, the first meal Alex and Jobey had ever eaten at the Alfonso women’s home. Alex and Jobey both looked startled, then pleased, then Jobey gave Alex a pointed look and sent him home for the gifts they’d gotten the ladies: an expensive designer purse for Gabriella and a lovely gray pashima shawl for Abuela. Both women were pleased to the point of speechlessness by their gifts, but Milly privately thought her gift was the best of all: a complete set of the Oz books in hardcover. She was especially pleased when she opened the first book’s cover and saw what was printed inside. “A map!”

“Have a look at book ten, Pix. It’s got a map of the Nome King’s realms as well as Oz and the Deadly Desert,” Alex said.

Milly opened the book and was lost. She paid very little attention to the grownups for the rest of the evening, although she did prick up her ears when she heard Gabriella and Alex talking about her, speaking in a low tone that Milly knew she wasn’t supposed to hear. “Look at her, absolutely absorbed,” Gabriella said. “In a ‘chapter book’, no less. She’s reading so well now. Far above grade level, her teacher says. Her math skills are pretty far ahead, too, now that she knows her English numbers well enough to understand what the teacher is getting at.” She gave Alex a long look. “You and Jobey have done a lot for her.”

“She’s done a lot for us,” Alex said easily. “As have you, Gabriella. In case you haven’t noticed, most of our neighbors haven’t exactly gone out of their way to roll out the welcome mat.”

“Have you had any more problems?”

“One or two. There was some very rude graffiti spray painted on my car last week. And Jobey ran into the Rodriguez boy and his teenage cronies at the grocery store yesterday, had to listen to some unpleasant names. But so far those incidents have been the exceptions. Mostly people are just…polite.” Alex’s lip twisted wryly. “The kind of polite that proves they’d rather do anything than actually talk to us.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. We’ve dealt with worse. The year after we first came out in London we had a much harder time. There’s always a price to be paid for being what you are.”

“Yes. There always is, isn’t there.” Gabriella looked troubled. “Milly’s teacher called me at the start of holiday break, you know. Milly’s made so much progress so fast that she wants to test her for the school district’s gifted program. She might even skip a grade.”

“That’s great news!”

“Is it?”

“Isn’t it?”

“I don’t know,” Gabriella said reluctantly. “Milly’s already the smallest girl in her class, and she doesn’t have many friends. The kids at school tend to ignore her instead of asking her to play, and the kids at church…well, she’s starting to be teased a lot for being above herself. You know. For using big words and not speaking English with an accent…”

“Actually, she does speak English with an accent,” Alex interjected with a smile. “She sounds like *me*. At least when she’s using words I taught her. Jobey pointed out the other day that she pronounces ‘patent’ with a long A just as if she’d been listening to the BBC all her life.” 

“You know what I mean,” Gabriella said tiredly. “For not speaking English with a Latina accent, I should have said. And how many seven year olds in Las Cruces even know what a patent is, anyway?” Alex looked mildly abashed. Gabriella frowned. “Listen to me, Alex. I don’t want Milly to grow up with the same kinds of prejudices I did, really I don’t. But her new interest in school and reading is making it much harder for her to fit in, and she’s lonely enough as it is. I’m worried that if she skips a grade, it will just make everything worse.” 

Alex looked sad. “Sometimes I think the greatest day in human history won’t be the day we finally conquer disease or the day we solve the global warming crisis, but the day we learn to accept each other’s differences without violence,” he said. “Either physical violence or the more insidious emotional kind.”

“You actually think that day will come?”

“Honestly? No, I don’t, not really. But Jobey does. He even thinks I’ll live to see it. So I’m forced to be more optimistic than I would be on my own,” Alex answered. “I understand your concerns about Milly, though. Being a parent isn’t easy, is it?”

“No.” Gabriella gave a rueful little laugh. “Why couldn’t I have normal problems, like she’s flunking math or stealing the other kids’ lunch money? I’d know how to cope with that.”

“Something tells me you’ll cope with this just fine,” Alex said comfortingly. “It’s your decision of course, Gabriella, but if you’re looking for advice…”

“I am, actually,” Gabriella said. She gave Alex a tiny smile. “I think my father would roll over in his grave if he knew that I was asking the gay couple next door for parenting advice. But Mama doesn’t know any better than I do, and…”

“Oh, Jobey and I have both been around a bit,” Alex said easily. “And we’re both old souls. Much wiser than we look.” He sobered. “I wouldn’t hold Milly back, Gabriella. She might have to endure some jealousy and teasing if she skips a grade, but she’s so smart that she’d have to do that even if she stayed in place. Milly’s a tough little thing, she’ll rise to the challenge. From what I’ve seen, the Alfonso women always do.”

Gabriella smiled warmly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Milly pretty much forgot about that conversation, being too absorbed in the Nome King’s adventures in Oz. But the first day back in school Milly was called to the principal’s office, where she spent an hour with a very friendly lady who asked her to make designs out of red and white cubes and then made her tell stories about pictures on cards. It was the weirdest test Milly had ever taken, but she must have done okay. The very next week Gabriella told her she was going to be in the third grade instead of the second. 

It felt strange going to a different classroom, and some of Milly’s old classmates did shoot her jealous stares, but it was more than worth it. Milly liked her new teacher, and she liked the harder schoolwork even more. It was nice to actually be doing interesting things in school, and even nicer to know that every good grade she got would earn her one of Alex’s proud smiles and a hearty “Well done, Sprout!” from Jobey. Alex started playing translation ‘games’ with her on the weekends that slowly-but-surely taught Milly the basics of Latin vocabulary and grammar, and that helped Milly with her schoolwork even more, as she began to understand how Latin affected both English and Spanish and how they interrelated. In many ways, it seemed like the whole world was coming alive, filled with interesting things to learn and know. 

Milly didn’t think she’d ever get tired of discovering it.

***

A year passed. In fourth grade, eight-year-old Milly was finally deemed old enough to take part in the National Geography Bee. She blew away all the competition in her school district, and that January Alex and Jobey drove Milly, Gabriella, and Abuela to Santa Fe so Milly could compete at the state level. Alex even paid to put them all up overnight in a luxury hotel—the valet in front sneered at Alex’s van, but not at Jobey’s tip—resulting in an experience that left all three of the Alfonso women talking excitedly for weeks. Milly didn’t do well enough to go on to the national competition, but you never would have guessed that from the way her fan club applauded. The picture Jobey snapped of Milly proudly holding her third place trophy while Gabriella and Abuela beamed in the background stayed on the family mantel for years.

June came, and as had become the tradition during the previous years, Milly once again started spending most of her summer days with Jobey and Alex. Gabriella had particular reason to be grateful for the arrangement that year. In February she had started dating her new boss at the construction company, and was now much too preoccupied to look after Milly. Abuela didn’t approve of this, especially when Gabriella started accompanying Mr. Smith to ‘business conferences’ for three and four days at a time. She and Gabriella had many arguments about it when Milly was supposed to be asleep. “But he’s your *boss*, Gabriella!” Abuela would protest, her voice sharp and shrill. “He shouldn’t be pressuring you into…into going away with him. It isn’t right. You should be able to say no.”

“Maybe I don’t want to say no, Mama. Have you thought of that?”

“But he’s not a gentleman, Gabriella. I can tell. You can do so much better…”

“No, Mama, I don’t think I can,” Gabriella said in exasperation. “It’s been five years now since Milly’s father left us. I haven’t exactly been turning away men at the door in that time, have I?” Her voice grew very sour. “It’s not like I have what it takes to attract a Mr. MacLeod, after all.”

“Gabriella, I just don’t want you to be unhappy.”

“Well, Mama, I’ve got news for you. I *am* unhappy. But I’ve decided that having somebody is better than having nobody. And I know what I’m doing. Brian treats me well, isn’t married and he doesn’t mind that I have a child.” Gabriella sighed. “Believe me, I could do a lot worse.” 

Abuela didn’t seem to agree with this…and neither did Milly, who privately thought that Brian Smith smelled bad and was always much too loud, watching football on their television every Sunday with the volume set way too high. She especially didn’t like the way he gave her slobbery kisses on the cheek whenever he came over, and always called her “sweetheart” and “darling” when he couldn’t remember her name. But the worst thing by far was the way he talked about Jobey and Alex. Hardly a day went by that he didn’t harass Gabriella about the time she let Milly spend with them, usually using lots of words that Milly didn’t understand. When Milly asked Abuela what some of these new words meant, Abuela’s eyes got big and round before she mumbled that some things just weren’t fit for a young girl to ask about. At first, this upset Milly considerably—how was she supposed to find out what the new words meant? But then she remembered that Alex never laughed at her questions or refused to answer them, no matter how silly or stupid other grownups thought they were. Milly waited for an evening when Gabriella and Brian were out on a date and Abuela was napping on the couch, and then she quietly slipped through the hedge and knocked on Alex and Jobey’s door. “Come on in, Sprout,” Jobey welcomed her heartily. “I was just about to start chopping some onions for a meatloaf. Want to grab a chair and help?”

“No thank you,” Milly said politely. “I can’t stay long. Abuela’s sleeping, she’ll miss me if she wakes up before I get back. I just wanted to ask Alex something.” Jobey nodded, and Milly went into the living room, where Alex was grading papers on the couch. Automatically, Alex shifted over and cleared the cushions so Milly could clamber up next to him. But Milly didn’t. Instead she sat on the ottoman in front of the couch, looking up at Alex with big, grave eyes. “Alex?”

“Yes, Pix?

“What’s a faggot?”

Alex blinked. In the kitchen, Jobey’s onion-chopping hands suddenly stilled. “Well, once upon a time, it meant a piece of wood in a bundle of sticks,” Alex answered, laying aside his work to regard Milly thoughtfully. “Today, however, it’s usually used as an insulting word for a male homosexual. Why do you ask, Pix? Who have you been talking to?”

Jobey snorted. “Three guesses,” he said, and it seemed to Milly that when Jobey resumed chopping, he attacked the onion with much more force than was strictly necessary. “It’s got to be that new man of Gabriella’s. You know. Mr. Charming.”

“It does seem likely,” Alex conceded with a sigh, and leaned toward Milly. “Pixie, is that true? Did you overhear Mr. Smith calling one of us that?”

Milly nodded. “Both of you,” she said shyly. “Brian said you were both dirty faggots and Mama shouldn’t let me come over here any more.”

“And what did your mother say?”

Milly tried to remember. Mostly, her mother had just looked uncomfortable and changed the subject. “Not much of anything,” Milly answered. Alex looked sad, and in the kitchen Jobey suddenly turned his back, frustration plain. “Alex? What’s an oh-no-sexual?”

“Homosexual,” Alex corrected, with just a hint of a twinkle coming into his hazel eyes. “Break it down, Pixie. What does the prefix ‘homo’ mean in Latin?”

This was familiar ground, thanks to Alex’s weekend language games. “It means same. Or similar.”

“Top of the class, Pixie. Exactly. So a homosexual is a person who prefers to have sex with people of his or her own gender.”

“Oh.” Milly took some time to think through this, translate it into words she knew. She was old enough now to have had the basics of reproduction and human courtship explained to her, and she knew that most grownups made a very big deal about such things. She was still too young to understand why. “You mean a gay person, then?” she asked. “Like you and Jobey?”

Alex’s twinkle deepened. “Pixie, most days with Jobey, I’m not just gay—I’m downright ecstatic,” he said, and when Jobey made a pointed throat-clearing sound in the kitchen, Alex shook his head apologetically. “Sorry, Pix. Jobey’s right. I shouldn’t be making jokes during a serious discussion. Yes. Both Jobey and I are gay.”

“You have sex with each other?”

“Yes.”

“My Sunday School teacher says only married people should have sex. Are you and Jobey married?”

Alex sighed. “Not legally, not the way your mom and dad were married before they got divorced. It’s still against the law for two men to be married in this state. But we wear each other’s rings, and we love each other very much.” He looked over the kitchen divider to meet Jobey’s eyes, sharing a tender, protective look that made Milly think of the way Abuela sometimes looked at her carefully guarded pictures of Milly’s long dead grandfather. “As far as we and all the people who really care about us are concerned, we’re married.”

“Oh.” Milly considered this, tucked it into her growing mental file of knowledge about the strange ways of the adult world. “Then why doesn’t Mr. Smith want me to come over here anymore?”

“That’s a good question, Pixie. I can only assume it’s because he’s one of those people—and there are still a lot of them about, even though it’s MUCH better than it used to be—who thinks there’s something very wrong with two men caring for each other the way Jobey and I do.”

“Why?”

“Well, that’s another good question.” Alex looked thoughtful. “I think it dates back to the first stirrings of Judaism in the Middle East, myself, to a survival ethic the modern west has inherited without really understanding the reasoning behind it. Back then people lived in small family groups, you see, and life was very hard. You really wanted your relatives to marry and produce as many children as they could so the family line didn’t die out, and you didn’t want your shepherds spending more time playing with each other than tending to the sheep. It was much too easy to lose the whole herd to predators or another clan if your attention wandered for even a few minutes, and then the entire tribe would starve. Although interestingly enough, many other cultures solved the same problem by actually encouraging…”

“Alex Porter!” Jobey exclaimed. “You are NOT going to give the child a sociological lecture on the different cultural reactions to homosexuality throughout the ages. Not for another ten years, anyway. All the Sprout really wants to know now is why Gabriella’s new fancy man doesn’t like us.” Alex looked mildly abashed. Jobey came out of the kitchen, wooden spoon in hand. He spun Milly’s ottoman around so she was facing him. “Look, Sprout. It’s really quite simple. Alex and I live our lives differently from other people, and there are always people who are afraid of anything that’s different. That’s all that’s going on. There’s nothing deep or confusing about it.”

“Oh.” It was another piece of information Milly tucked into her ever-growing file. “What should I do when he calls you names, then?”

“Oh, Sprout. You really are asking the hard ones today, aren’t you,” Jobey groaned. “If you were older—out in the world and on your own—I’d tell you one thing. But you’re just a little girl, so…” He shared a long look with Alex. Alex made a little “go ahead” gesture with his hands. Jobey nodded and returned his attention to Milly. “So I think it’s best that you just ignore it. Maybe as time goes by and he gets to know us better, he’ll realize we’re pretty normal, boring types and cut it out. Or maybe he won’t. Either way, it’s not your problem, Mills. After all, Alex and I have been called a lot of unpleasant things in our time. We can handle Mr. Brian Smith.”

“But what if Mama agrees with him and tells me I can’t see you anymore?”

“She’s not going to do that, Pixie,” Alex said confidently. “Your mom may not have the best taste in the world when it comes to men, but she knows us, and she knows that you’re safe when you’re here. She’s not going to keep you away.” He tousled Milly’s hair affectionately. “Now scoot on home. When your grandma wakes up, tell her Jobey’s making enough meatloaf to feed an army. We’d be glad if she’d come over later and help us eat it.” 

Abuela didn’t come over—she was feeling too tired—but she sent Milly over, and Milly brought her some meatloaf back which she ate while she watched Wheel of Fortune on the television. Abuela had spent a lot of time watching television that summer. Another bad chest cold in July had left her more run-down than she’d ever been, tired and fumbling. When the new school year started and the newly nine-year-old Milly entered the fifth grade, Abuela began sleeping in late; Milly started making her own breakfast so she didn’t have to wake Abuela up. This went on for several weeks, Abuela usually rising just in time to give Milly a tired kiss before Milly had to catch her bus. Then, one day in early October, a morning came when Abuela didn’t rise at all. Milly waited until the last possible moment, looking uneasily at the clock as she pondered what would happen if she missed the big yellow bus. Then she knocked on Abuela’s door. “Abuela?”

There was no answer, so Milly pushed open the door. She saw dust motes dancing in the air over the picture of the Virgin Mary on Abuela’s little dresser shrine, and she heard the steady tick-tick of Abuela’s old fashioned wind-up clock, but apart from that the room was very still. Very, very still. Really worried now, Milly went next door, where she found Jobey washing breakfast dishes. He took one glance at her face and asked her what was wrong. “I think Abuela’s sick again,” Milly answered. “She looks funny, and she won’t answer me when I talk to her…”

Jobey looked extremely alarmed. But he calmly dried his hands on a towel and let Milly lead him back to her house. Once inside, he paused outside Abuela’s bedroom door, hand lingering on the door knob. “Sprout, honey, why don’t you wait for me in the kitchen,” he said. “I’ll just be a few minutes.”

Milly wanted to argue. But there was a weird silence in the house, a feeling in the air that had never been there before, and so she obeyed. Jobey was inside Abuela’s bedroom for less then five minutes. When he came back out, he looked very, very grave. “Honey, I need you to do something for me,” he said. “I need you to be a very brave girl and go over to our house by yourself for a while. Help yourself to a snack and curl up on the couch with one of Alex’s books while you wait for me. I have some phone calls to make.”

Milly felt her chest get heavy and tight. “What about Abuela?” she asked. “Are you going to take her to the hospital?” 

“No, honey. The hospital can’t help her now.” 

Milly’s heavy, tight feeling got even worse. “People are only past being helped by the hospital when they’re dead,” she said, with unassailable 9-year-old logic. “Is Abuela dead?”

“Yes, Sprout. I’m afraid she is.”

Milly found that her face had suddenly turned into a mask, far too stiff and frozen to speak. Strangely, though, her eyes went quite liquid, and almost as if they belonged to somebody else she felt a tear well up and splash down her cheek. Jobey gathered him to her, pressing her close while her body started to shake with sobs. “Shhh, now, shhh,” he said. “It’s all right. Or…well, no, it isn’t, but it won’t hurt so much, not after a while. You have to trust me on that.” Milly didn’t answer—all she could do was cry. “On second thought, we’ll both go home,” Jobey said. “I can make the arrangements from there. Oh, honey. I wish I could carry you, but…Milly, can you walk? For me?”

She nodded. “That’s my brave, strong, beautiful girl,” Jobey said. He led her out of the house and into his and Alex’s living room, where he wrapped Milly in the very hideous but very warm old orange afghan that had been on the couple’s living room couch ever since they’d first moved in. Then Jobey sat down next to her, wrapping an arm around her as he started making calls. Milly sat, mummified in afghan with her face pressed against Jobey’s now very sodden shirt, while Jobey talked politely to the operator at 911, then much less politely to whomever it was that answered the phone at Alex’s school. “Yes, I *am* aware that Dr. Porter is teaching Dr. Morstar’s advanced linguistics seminar today. I’m also aware that if you don’t get Alex on the phone for me in the next thirty seconds, you are going to be looking for a new TA position this time tomorrow. Do I have to say the word ‘emergency’ in Aramaic for you dunderheads to know what it means? Move your over-educated ass and go get him!” After he’d talked to Alex, Jobey tried to contact Milly’s mother, leaving messages for Gabriella on her work phone, her cell phone, and at the conference center where she was supposed to be working with Mr. Smith. “You can’t find Mama?” Milly asked in a small voice, when he’d dialed the last number without success.

“Not yet, but we’ll track her down. Don’t you worry about it, honey,” Jobey said. They both heard the sound of a car pulling into the driveway. “That’ll be Alex,” Jobey said, sounding very relieved. He gave Milly a quick squeeze before going to meet Alex on the porch. Milly stayed where she was, hearing the men talk in low, subdued voices: a few phrases floated to her, phrases like “stroke, most likely” and “in her sleep” and “haven’t been able to reach Gabriella yet,” but Milly wasn’t really hearing them. She felt numb inside, and completely out of place, like the entire world had turned upside down. When Alex came in and saw her, all he said was “Oh, Pixie,” but it was enough. The tears started up again, and this time Milly had the scary feeling that she would never be able to stop. But Alex came to her and swept her up into his arms, settling her against his hip like she was still a toddler instead of a big girl of nine, so strong and reassuring that Milly couldn’t help but feel safe. “It’s okay, Pix. Let it out,” he said. And suddenly, in a weird kind of way, everything was all right.

She spent the rest of the day either sitting with Alex on the couch or clinging to his pant leg in the kitchen while Jobey dealt with the paramedics and began calling neighbors and family. Gabriella didn’t call until almost seven o’clock that night, when they were all listlessly picking at Jobey’s hastily heated supper of hot dogs and beans. From the number of “there, there”s and “Calm down, honey”s Jobey had to say, Milly got the impression that Gabriella was extremely upset. She and Jobey talked for quite some time, until Jobey said: “Yes, of course we can keep the Sprout until you get back. We’ll just put her in the guest bed, she’ll be no trouble at all. Don’t worry about a thing,” before saying goodbye and hanging up. “Gabriella won’t be able to drive back to town until the day after tomorrow at least,” he announced to Milly and Alex. “The service will be Saturday. I said I’d make all the arrangements with the funeral home. Gabriella…well, she’s not thinking too clearly right now.”

“So I gathered,” Alex said. The two men exchanged a significant look, then Alex reached a hand across the table to Milly. “Looks like you’re going to be our houseguest, Pixie. Want me to go get your nightgown and your toothbrush for you?”

Milly nodded, amazingly relieved to know that she wouldn’t have to go back to her own empty house, not even to get her toothbrush. Alex gave her an understanding smile and slipped over, returning with nightgown, slippers, robe, toothbrush, and Milly’s favorite Oz book, which had become very dog eared in the years since it had been her Christmas gift. Milly practically had the text memorized, but it was very nice to sit next to Alex on the couch while he read her a few chapters anyway. She snuggled up closely while she listened to Alex’s wonderful voice read all about Glinda the Good Witch and her Magical Book, the one that recorded everything that happened everywhere in the world. “You read like Jobey sings,” she said sleepily when Alex closed the book.

“That may be one of the nicest compliments anybody has ever given me,” Alex said. “Ready for bed now, Pix?”

She nodded, and he gathered her up, carrying her to the guest bedroom Nick and Amanda had once shared. Unfortunately, the moment Alex had tucked her in and turned off the light, all of Milly’s sleepiness fled. She lay there, feeling…she didn’t know what she was feeling. But very lost and frightened and alone. She did her best to go to sleep, really she did, but by the time the big grandfather clock had chimed ten and Alex was gently tiptoeing in to check on her she’d tossed and turned so much that the once neatly made bed was in ruins. Alex took one look at the disheveled, twisted bedclothes and sat down in a chair at her bedside, looking at her compassionately. “Not fair, is it, Pix.”

The gentle, matter of fact statement, made as calmly as if Alex was talking to another grown-up instead of a little girl, loosed something inside Milly’s heart. “No! It isn’t fair!” she yelled out, a hot flush of tears coming to her face. “Abuela shouldn’t have left me, and Mama should be here, and…and…” As quickly as it had come, her anger suddenly departed, leaving a terrible grief in its place. “Why, why do people have to die?”

She saw Alex’s strong shoulders wince slightly, as if Alex had been hurt. “Oh, Pixie,” he said softly. “I’m really, really not the person to ask.”

“Why not? You know everything else.”

“It probably seems that way to you, doesn’t it,” Alex said with a ghost of a smile. “But I don’t know everything, Pixie. And I especially don’t know this. In all my years, I’ve never found an answer to that question that I’ve agreed with. And believe me, I’ve spent a lot of time looking for one.” He slumped back into his chair with a sigh. “There *are* answers out there, ranging from nature’s blind need to eternally recycle itself to a belief in a particular god’s master plan. I know Jobey honestly believes there’s a good reason for it all. He even thinks that human beings will eventually figure that reason out, the same way that we figured out electricity and gravity, even if that’s many, many millennia from now. But as for me…” Alex looked sad. “I won’t lie to you, Pixie. I’ve never seen a purpose in getting old and dying, and I’ve never reconciled myself to seeing it happen to the people I love. Frankly, as far as I’m concerned, the whole system sucks. And I get angry every time I think about it.”

“Oh.” Unbidden, a memory from a year or so came into Milly’s mind. It was the one time Milly had ever truly seen Alex get mad at Jobey, the first time she’d ever heard Alex speak harshly to his life partner in any way. They had all been working out in the garden, and Milly had accidentally let the garden hose she was holding slip out of her hands. A wild bolt of water had soaked Jobey to the skin before Alex had finally managed to turn off the faucet, and Jobey had laughingly gone into the house to change. When he’d returned, he was wearing a brand new t-shirt, one Milly had never seen before. Apparently Alex hadn’t seen it either, because he stared at it outright, his expression shifting from shock to fury. “What the hell are you wearing that for?” he demanded.

Jobey, quite understandably puzzled, had taken a confused look down at his t-shirt and sweat pant clad body. “Wearing what?”

Alex had stalked over to him, jabbing an accusing finger at the slogan on Joe’s chest. “‘Don’t Take Life So Seriously-It Isn’t Permanent,’” Alex read aloud. “Where on earth did you get such a horrible thing?”

“Oh.” Jobey gave a puzzled shrug. “This. I got it at that T-shirt shop at the mall. I thought it was funny…”

“It isn’t funny,” Alex said sharply. “It’s obscene. You’re never to wear that again, do you hear me? Never, ever again…” And Jobey, looking stricken, had nodded and limped inside to change into one of his old blues festival t-shirts instead. When he returned he and Alex once again laughed and joked as usual, and Milly had never seen the offending garment again. But she thought about it now, a few things she hadn’t understood before coming together in her head. “Alex?”

“Yes, Pixie?”

“If you’re angry about Abuela dying, does that mean it’s okay for me to be angry too?”

His smile was beautiful. “Yes,” he said. “It most certainly does.” He took her hand and leaned back over the bed, looking down on her tenderly. “Hold onto your anger, Pixie,” he said softly. “Don’t let it dictate your actions, but don’t surrender it either. When a thing’s unfair and wrong you need to keep believing it’s unfair and wrong, even if there’s nothing you can do to change it. Do you understand me?”

She didn’t, not really, but she nodded anyway. Alex straightened out the tangled bedclothes and smoothed them over her body, then kissed her gently on the forehead. “Goodnight, Pix,” he said and left the room.

Milly closed her eyes.

***

It turned out that Gabriella could not return until the morning of the funeral, so for the rest of the week Milly was a full time resident at Jobey and Alex’s house. It felt strange to be living there around the clock, not going home to eat or sleep. It enforced a new kind of intimacy that made Milly feel oddly like a stranger, despite having had nearly free run of the place for more than three years. Milly discovered this on the second night, when it was Jobey’s turn to come check on her in bed just before he and Alex retired; the old musician was sitting in a wheelchair with a blanket draped across his lap, something that startled Milly no end. Up until that moment Milly hadn’t known Jobey owned a wheelchair at all, let alone had a reason to use one. When she asked him about it the next morning, Jobey told her all about Vietnam and what had happened to his legs. He even cheerfully demonstrated the way his prosthetic legs attached…after which Milly totally understood the reason for the chair, since strapping on the legs was way too much of a hassle to go through just to get to the bathroom in the middle of the night. Milly quickly grew accustomed to the sound of the wheels stopping by her bedroom as Jobey peaked in on her, and after that ceased to think about the matter much at all. Jobey’s missing legs were simply a part of Jobey, nothing to get concerned about. But Milly did wonder just how she had managed to miss such an important thing. And then she started wondering how much else she still had to learn.

She stayed very quiet after that, fitting herself into the corners of Jobey and Alex’s daily routine while she kept her eyes open wide, and she discovered some fascinating things. She learned that Alex woke up every morning before dawn to go for a long run and to do strange exercises with a sword in the back garden, taking advantage of the pre-dawn gloom to hide this fact from the neighbors. She learned that Alex hated peppermint toothpaste and Jobey couldn’t stand cinnamon, so any guest in their house could take her choice, since Jobey kept the hall closet well-stocked with fresh new tubes of both. Most of all, she learned that Jobey and Alex really spoke to each other very little as they went about their daily tasks, sometimes exchanging less than a dozen words during the course of an afternoon, but that they were always interacting nonetheless: communicating with a secret code of glances and affectionate touch that almost made it seem like they could read each other’s minds. This became especially apparent on the fourth night of Milly’s stay, when Alex suddenly went very stiff halfway through their supper. Jobey, who was dishing out a second helping of Irish stew at the table, took one look at him and stiffened, too. “Oh, no,” he said, hand freezing on his ladle. “Not now. Of all the times…”

“’Fraid so,” Alex said. As if they were one person, both men turned to look out the dining room window. Milly followed their gaze and saw a tall figure clad in a long dark coat standing on the sidewalk. He appeared to be waiting expectantly. Jobey looked anxious. “Who…?” 

“Kahvin’s latest protégé. He’s been hanging around the university campus for a few weeks, now. In a way, I’m surprised it took him this long to decide to follow me home.”

“But…”

“I know. It’s going to be okay.” Alex gave his partner a loving smile, pushing his bowl of stew away. “Put this back in the oven for me. I’ll be hungry for it later.”

Jobey nodded, biting down on his lip. Milly looked curiously back and forth between them. She knew there was something strange going on here, much more than met the eye, but she didn’t know what it was. “Who’s that?” she asked, pointing at the window.

“Just the student of an old acquaintance of mine, Pix,” Alex said. “His teacher and I had a…professional disagreement, once, and now the student wants to continue the argument.” 

“Are you going to go argue with him?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Alex said, looking amused. He reached for his overcoat. “I may need to argue with him for quite some time, so don’t worry if I’m not back before you go to bed. I’ll see you at breakfast.” He planted a quick kiss on Jobey’s cheek. “You too,” he said with gentle emphasis. Then he slipped on his overcoat and went out the door. 

The stranger followed him down the street.

Jobey spent the rest of the meal in a very distracted state, picking at his stew instead of eating. He was next to useless helping Milly learn her spelling words that night, and eventually Milly gave up and got a book out of Alex’s study to read, watching in concern as Jobey limped aimlessly around the house and kept looking at the clock. Fortunately, Alex was only gone for a few hours. He let himself in through the back door shortly after sunset, going directly into the bathroom and running a shower before he so much as said hello. That night after Milly was tucked in, Milly watched through her open door as Alex carefully closed his and Jobey’s own bedroom door behind them, shutting it as thoroughly and finally as if he was closing out the entire world with that simple act. It made her feel a little funny, seeing that, because by now she was old enough to really understand that most of the people in her small world didn’t approve of Jobey and Alex’s kind of love. But when she saw the way that neither man took his eyes off the other the following morning, and the way that Jobey’s hands kept sneaking out to touch Alex on the shoulder or in the small of the back as if to reassure himself that Alex was really there, Milly came to the conclusion that she was actually seeing something very special. She even realized, in perhaps the first truly grown up revelation of her life, how much courage it took for Jobey and Alex to hold onto that special-ness despite the world’s disapproval. And what trust they had in her not to hide it from her sight... 

By the time Gabriella finally arrived and Abuela’s funeral was held, Milly had learned a lot about love and tolerance and strength, and felt about million years older than the nine-years-and-two-months she actually was. She didn’t make a fuss when Mr. Smith, wearing a very ill-fitting cheap black suit, tried to keep Jobey and Alex from entering the church at the funeral. Instead she simply said “Abuela gave Jobey Auntie Carolita’s tamale recipe. *She* thought Jobey and Alex were family,” and led the couple to the relatives-only pew at the very front of the church, so eerily calm and stately in her frilly white church dress that not even the priest dared to argue. She sat between them during the service, Jobey on her right and Alex on her left, holding one of the man’s hands in each of hers. 

When she cried, it was Jobey who lent her his handkerchief.

***

For the first few months after Abuela’s death, very little changed in the Alfonzo’s women’s lives. Abuela’s absence left a gaping hole in their hearts and their home, but their essential routine remained unchanged. Gabriella continued to work long hours just as she always had, and Alex and Jobey continued to look after Milly on the weekends and after school. But, eventually, changes began creeping in. It started when Mr. Smith stopped dropping Gabriella off at the door after their dates and began staying the night instead. Gradually, one night became a weekend and then three days and then four, until the day came that Gabriella took Milly aside. “Honey, I need to tell you something,” she said. “Brian is going to come to live with us full time.” 

Milly didn’t say anything. To her mind, Brian Smith had become something of a necessary evil. Milly still didn’t like him at all. But his presence seemed to make Gabriella happy, so she put up with him as required, which really wasn’t very much. As long as Milly was superficially polite when Brian first arrived, which she unfailingly was just because it was easier than getting yelled at for being rude, Gabriella was content to let Milly escape next door for most of Brian’s visits. But actually having him live in the house was a different matter. Milly shrugged uncomfortably. “I don’t like him, Mama.”

“Oh, honey, why not?” Gabriella seemed shocked. “He’s always so nice to you. And he brings you so many lovely gifts.”

This was true—or it would have been, if Milly had still been an average kindergartener who loved teddy bears and candy, instead of a very gifted fifth grader who would rather have books or new mapping software for Alex’s computer than anything else. She decided not to complain about this, however. Gabriella would no doubt decide she was being selfish. Milly decided to jump to the real issue. “He’s mean to Jobey and Alex.”

“Oh.” Gabriella looked momentarily taken aback. “I—I know, Milly. I’ve talked to him about it. He’s promised to be more open minded once he’s moved in, not to call them so many bad names. At least not in front of you,” Gabriella added under her breath. Milly crossed her arms and waited, not impressed. Gabriella got to her knees and looked up into Milly’s face. “Listen to me, Milly,” she said. “Brian needs a place to live—the construction company’s not doing very well, and he can’t afford to keep paying the rent where he’s living now. Besides, I want to have him here. I’ve been alone a long time now, honey, and with your grandma gone—well, I need someone in my life. The way your grandma needed your grandpa, the way Jobey and Alex need each other.” Her eyes became pleading. “You do understand, don’t you, sweetie? Tell me you understand.”

Milly looked away. It was clear even to her nine-year-old mind that Brian and Gabriella’s constant cycle of bickering and bitter silences was nothing like Alex and Jobey’s steady affection. But Gabriella was so obviously upset that Milly gave a tentative nod, and the hug Gabriella swept her into was very warm, warmer than any Milly could remember since before Brian had come onto the scene. She snuggled into Gabriella’s arms happily, reflecting that if having Brian move in was what it took to make her mother smile, it really wasn’t such a terrible thing to agree to. 

Brian moved in the next weekend.

It was the start of what was to be a very difficult 2009 for Milly, in all kinds of ways. On the strength of her fall test scores, it was decided that Milly needed more of a challenge than even her fifth-grade classroom could provide; she started walking over to the middle school every afternoon to supplement her elementary work with sixth grade classes. The academic work itself was easy, thanks to Jobey and Alex’s help, but she discovered that being nine amongst eleven- and twelve-year-olds was a thousand times harder than being a nine in class with tens and elevens. Luckily, nobody was intentionally cruel. But puberty was starting to make Milly’s middle-school classmates act in strange and baffling ways, and Milly constantly felt confused and left out. Jobey told her that everyone felt that way in middle school, even the kids who belonged there, and that made her feel a little better. Still, she was beginning to wonder if sometimes it wouldn’t be better to be normal instead of smart. 

There were some bright spots. The middle school had a school-wide science fair every April, and Milly got permission to participate. Her project was inspired by Alex’s latest t-shirt: a gift from his students, it said “Stop Plate Tectonics!” in big green letters on the front. Apparently the gift was supposed to be a tongue-and-cheek tribute to Professor Porter’s habit of championing impossible academic causes. The discussion Milly and Alex had when she asked about the shirt led to a very cool science fair project about continental drift, complete with hand-drawn maps of the ancient supercontinent Pangaea. When Milly won the fifty dollar first prize, she wracked and wracked her brains for a gift that would show Alex her appreciation. She ended up going to the mall, where she had the t-shirt shop print a shirt that said “Proud Member of the Committee to Reunite Pangaea”. When Alex opened the package he first looked startled. Then he laughed a deep, joyful belly-laugh that warmed Milly to the toes. He changed into it on the spot, and the shirt quickly became the most-worn garment in Alex’s wardrobe. Milly glowed with pride every time Alex wore it under his professor’s blazer to school.

In early June, Alex was given a very prestigious opportunity to lecture at a university in Japan. He and Jobey decided to combine the trip with some of Alex’s summer break to make a proper vacation, taking a ten-week tour of all the exotic places of the east. They set off the week Milly started her vacation, looking so happy and expectant in their new vacation t-shirts (“Warning: Disgustingly Provincial American Tourist” for Jobey and “Warning: Sickeningly Enlightened World Traveler” for Alex) that Milly felt ashamed of herself for being jealous. She knew very well that the couple deserved some time on their own. Gabriella never ceased to remind her of that fact, telling Milly that she had no right to mope. After all, at the tremendous age of almost-ten Milly was finally big enough to spend part of a summer looking after herself. It was selfish, Gabrielle said, to ask Jobey and Alex to spend all their time with her.

Deep down, Milly knew Gabriella was right, but she couldn’t help but feel bleak at the men’s absence anyway. Her own home was not a very pleasant place just then. Brian’s construction company had gone bankrupt shortly after spring break, leaving both Gabriella and Brian unemployed. Gabriella was doing what she could, but the temp jobs she was working left her very cranky and tired. Brian spent his mornings looking for work and his afternoons smoking and drinking in front of the TV, pretty much oblivious to the fact that Milly existed. This was just as well…Milly didn’t particularly *want* Brian to know that she existed, especially since when he did notice her he never failed to twit her about the state of her room or the cartographer’s ink that was inevitably splotching her hands. But it made for a very lonely summer, lonelier than she’d had since before Jobey and Alex came to Las Cruces. Every night she prayed fervently that they would come home early.

Which is what it made it so awful when they actually did, a full month ahead of schedule. They arrived unexpectedly late one afternoon, with no phone call or other announcement of their coming. Milly flew joyously down the sidewalk when she saw the familiar car, only to stop dead in her tracks. Jobey looked strange, very pale and very tired, and Milly had the impression that he’d lost some weight. “I *can* get out of a car by myself,” Jobey said irritably, when Alex tried to help him out of the passenger’s seat. “You don’t have to treat me like a piece of china.”

“Of course I don’t have to. I’m going to do it anyway,” Alex answered with a teasing smile, a smile that faded the moment he saw Jobey’s completely un-amused expression. He sighed, looking tired. “Humor me, Jobey.”

“I *am* humoring you. I agreed to come home early, didn’t I? It’s not like I’m being…” He saw Milly. “Sprout! My god, look at you. You’ve grown two inches since we left.” 

She blushed happily. “No, I haven’t,” she said. “You’ve only been gone six weeks. Nobody grows two inches in six weeks.”

“Well, I think you might be the first. Come give me a hug.” Milly did, throwing her arms around Jobey with exuberance, squeezing for all she was worth. Jobey started to squeeze back, then made a muffled “oofing” sound. Frightened, Milly looked up to see a Jobey who was clearly in pain. “Did I hurt you?” 

“No, Sprout. Of course not,” Jobey answered. “I’m just worn out from the long flight, that’s all. Alex?” Wordlessly, Alex slipped an arm around his partner. They walked into the house together, Milly trailing behind like the bedraggled tail of a kite. “Are you okay?” she asked when Alex had settled Jobey on the living room couch.

“Fine, Sprout. Just having a bit of stomach pain, that’s all.”

“Are you going to see a doctor?”

“We already have, Pixie,” Alex answered. “In Osaka. That’s why we’re back early. Jobey needs to go the hospital for a few tests, and we thought it would be best to have them done at home.”

Milly’s eyes grew very wide. “Hospital?” 

“Don’t look like that, Sprout,” Jobey said calmly. “I’m going to be fine. At least if somebody—“ he mock-glared at Alex— “doesn’t drive me crazy treating me like a baby in the meantime.” Alex merely smiled knowingly and carefully tucked the orange afghan around Jobey’s legs. Jobey rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to Milly. “Go get the atlas, Sprout,” he said. “I want to show you all the places that Alex and I visited. I think we have presents for you from most of them. Isn’t that right, Alex?”

Presents there were indeed, from dolls wearing various kinds of native Asian costume to fascinating souvenir maps printed in Korean to a Milly-sized black T-shirt covered in Japanese characters. (Alex said the characters meant: “My friends climbed Mt. Fuji and all I got was this lousy t-shirt”.) They spent a very happy afternoon looking at the presents and the other souvenirs Alex and Jobey had brought back—but Milly noticed that Jobey didn’t move more than was strictly necessary, and every time something needed fetching from another room he sent Alex or Milly to get it. The next morning, Milly sat with her nose pressed to her kitchen window while Alex carried Jobey out to the car like a child—and felt her heart sink to the bottoms of her sandals when she noticed that the extremely independent Jobey wasn’t protesting at all. She stayed within sight of that window all day, worriedly watching for the couple’s return, until morning became afternoon and afternoon became night. At last around bedtime the phone rang. Gabriella got it. “Alex! Hello,” she said enthusiastically. “How are you doing?”

Milly watched her mother’s face get very worried, then resigned. “Yes, yes, of course, I understand,” she said, purposefully avoiding Milly’s impatient gaze. “Do you need me to bring you or Jobey anything? Food, a change of clothes? No? All right. If there’s anything else I can do…” She nodded for a moment, then looked at Milly, and Milly knew Alex had been asking about her. “No, she’s fine. Concerned of course, but that’s only to be expected…yes, of course I’ll tell her. Don’t you worry about anything. You just take care of Jobey. All right. Give him our love. Good night.” Gabriella hung up the phone. 

“Is Jobey okay?” Milly demanded.

“He’s fine,” Gabriella said, with a smile that was supposed to be reassuring but which Milly thought looked very fake. “The doctors at the hospital just decided he needed a few more tests, that’s all. They’re going to keep him in the ward overnight. Alex is staying with him.”

“What’s wrong with him?”

“Now, we won’t know that until they’ve finished doing the tests, now will we?” Gabriella said cheerfully. Milly scowled, and Gabriella ran a hand over her hair. “I’m sure everything’s going to be fine, honey. I know—why don’t you get out your crayons and make a get well card for Jobey? You can give it to him when he gets back tomorrow.”

*Crayons, indeed,* Milly thought scornfully as she stalked away, features molded into an unconsciously Alex-like expression of intellectual disdain. She had the feeling that Gabriella expected her to scrawl “I Luf Yoo” on a piece of construction paper with some stick figures and a border of hand drawn hearts, like she was still in the first grade. Nevertheless, the suggestion had some merit. Milly got out the origami paper and instruction book that had been another of Jobey and Alex’s travel gifts and started folding one of the most complex patterns in the book, a lovely garland made of interlocking flowers. She stayed up folding late into the night, and fell asleep just as she finished making the last piece.

In the morning Alex called again, and Gabriella’s body language got quite tense, though all she’d tell Milly was that Jobey would have to stay at the hospital for at least one more night. She then proceeded to give Milly a kiss and went off to work, blissfully unaware of just how close to an emotional breakdown her small daughter was. Milly was scared to death, and the fact that nobody would answer any of her questions with more than a “don’t worry” or a “we just have to wait, honey” made everything worse. Milly *was* worried. Milly *couldn’t* wait. When lunchtime came and went with no more news, she formed a daring plan. Brian wouldn’t miss her; he had come home from the unemployment center in time to eat the sandwich Gabriella had left and was now firmly absorbed in some cop show on TV. Presumably he’d think she was just going outside to play. Milly used her key to let herself into Alex’s and Jobey’s house, than helped herself to a large handful of quarters and dollar bills from the change jar the couple kept near the door. She’d never stolen money from anybody before, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Ten minutes later she had walked to the corner and was waiting for the bus.

Getting to the hospital wasn’t a problem. Thanks to her love of maps, Milly knew the streets of Las Cruces better than the bus driver did, and even though she had to change routes twice she made it to Mountain View Regional Medical Center relatively unscathed. Finding her way around the hospital was a different matter, though. Milly wandered aimlessly for a while, marveling at the way all the grown ups around her seemed to know exactly where they were going, until she stumbled over a desk labeled “Information”. There she stood in line for nearly ten minutes until a very harried looking volunteer, not even bothering to look up from her computer screen, barked: “Patient name?”

“Jobey—Mr. Job Darwin.”

The volunteer clicked away on her keyboard. “Third floor, room 223. Take the elevator and follow the red stripe on the floor until you find it,” she said, then did a double take when Milly thanked her. “Oh dear. I didn’t get a good look at you before, honey. I’m afraid you can’t go up by yourself. Small children are only allowed in the wards with a parent or guardian.”

Was everyone going to treat her like a baby today? “I’m almost ten,” Milly protested. “That’s not small.” 

The volunteer looked sympathetic, but she shook her head firmly. “Rules are rules, honey. You need to be fourteen to go upstairs by yourself.”

“Oh.” Milly dropped her shoulders. “I guess I’ll just go home, then.” 

“Come back later with your mom or dad,” the volunteer said kindly, and was immediately distracted by the next person in line. Milly looked around the lobby. She saw the bank of elevators on one side, and the big revolving door to the parking lot on the other. She made her decision. In mere moments, she was standing amongst a crowd of adults, heading up to the third floor.

Once there, Milly didn’t need to follow the red stripe. She could hear the soft sound of a guitar playing, combined with a very familiar voice. Instantly, Milly felt better. If Jobey felt good enough to sing, he couldn’t be in too much trouble, could he? She followed the sound to a doorway not far from the elevators, where a small crowd had gathered. About a dozen patients in robes, nurses in uniforms, and assorted other people had gathered outside of Jobey’s private room, respectfully listening in. Milly drew closer so that she could hear the words:

“We said that we’d walk together  
Baby, come what may;  
That come the twilight  
Should we lose our way  
If, as we’re walking,  
Our hands should slip free  
I’ll wait for you  
And should I fall behind,  
Wait for me.

We swore we’d travel  
Darlin’, side by side;  
We’d help each other  
Stay in stride.  
But each lover’s steps fall  
So differently—  
So I’ll wait for you.  
And should I fall behind,  
Wait for me.

Now everyone dreams of  
Love lasting and true…  
Oh, but you and I  
Know what this world can do.  
So let’s make our steps clear  
That the other may see,  
I’ll wait for you.  
And if I should fall behind,  
Wait for me.

Now there’s a beautiful river  
In the valley ahead  
There ‘neath the oak’s bough  
Soon we will be wed  
Should we lose each other  
In the shadow of the evening trees,  
I’ll wait for you, and should I fall behind, wait for me.  
Darlin’, I’ll wait for you, and should I fall behind, wait for me.  
Yeah, I’ll wait for you, and should I fall behind, wait for me.” 

Jobey’s voice was rough and gravelly with emotion, a magnificent contrast to the bell-like purity of the guitar. When he finished, there was a small smattering of respectful applause before a nurse briskly shooed the crowd away. “Mr. Darwin needs his rest now,” she reprimanded. “If he’s up to it, he’ll play again tomorrow.” The crowd reluctantly dispersed—Milly thought she saw several people wiping away tears—and Milly started to enter the little room. Only to see Alex standing by the window, arms crossed over his stomach, so much pain in his eyes that Milly felt her own heart crack in sympathy. “Fucking awful song,” Alex muttered under his breath.

Milly froze in mid-step, too startled to continue. Alex had never, ever used profanity in front of her before, except for the occasional lyrical Greek or Russian curse. He’d once told her that four letter words were the refuge of the linguistically incompetent. To hear him use one now meant that something was very, very wrong. But Jobey didn’t look shocked at all. He just smiled softly from the hospital bed, the guitar resting in his lap. “And there was me thinking that you liked Springsteen,” he said wryly. 

“I did,” Alex said tartly. “I even liked that song, once upon a time.” He walked to the bed and sat down on it, shoulders slumped in defeat. “*That* was before we knew you had colon cancer.” 

“Stop that. We don’t know for sure just yet. The biopsy results won’t be back from the lab until late tonight.”

“Yes, but I bullied the nurse into letting me see the pictures from the colonoscopy. Ordinary polyps don’t look like that, Joe.” Alex’s head dropped to his chest. “Bloody hell, Joe. Bloody, bloody hell.”

Jobey set the guitar aside. “Come here,” he said firmly, and Alex kicked off his shoes. A minute later he was stretched out on the hospital bed, head cradled in Jobey’s lap. “We don’t know for sure yet,” the musician repeated softly, stroking Alex’s hair like a baby’s. “And even if the biopsy *is* positive, the prognosis is good. We caught it early. Thanks to you.”

“I know that.”

“More than an eighty percent survival rate, the doctor said.”

“I know that, too.” Alex straightened up, rubbing at his eyes. Milly was shocked to see the redness of tears. “I know all the arguments, Joe, all the reasons why I shouldn’t be upset. Just…just give me a little while to be unreasonable, okay? Tomorrow we can switch and you can be unreasonable while I comfort you.” Jobey nodded and pulled Alex back into his lap. Alex let out a deep sigh. “It’s too soon for this, Joe. Much, much too soon.”

Jobey kissed his hair. “We’ve had more than a dozen years together, beloved,” he said gently. “Twenty-two, if you count that first decade when I acted like such an idiot. How long did you want?”

“A few thousand years would be about right.” Jobey chuckled softly, and Alex raised his head to glare at him. “Don’t--*don’t*--you dare start telling me that you’ve had a good long run, Joe. Fifty-nine years is nowhere near long enough.”

“I won’t,” Jobey promised. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t. I won’t.” Alex looked at him for a long moment, then, seemingly placated, he relaxed his head back into Jobey’s lap. Jobey resumed his stroking. “This isn’t what’s going to get rid of me, anyway,” Jobey said after a moment’s deep thought. “It may be unpleasant for a while, but it’s not my ticket out.”

“You think?”

“I know.”

“How?”

“I just do. Something deep in here tells me.” Jobey touched his heart, staunchly meeting Alex’s disbelieving eyes. “I mean it. Call Cassie and Sandra if you don’t believe me.” 

Alex looked away. “I did,” he admitted. “Before we left Osaka.”

“You did?” Jobey sounded surprised. “What did they say?”

“The usual. The future’s too great a gift to be unwrapped ahead of schedule, etc. etc. But Cassie did tell me not to worry.”

“Well, that’s a good sign.”

“It would be, if the little know-it-all didn’t say that about everything. You know she doesn’t believe in worrying people about things that can’t be changed. Or have you forgotten that little conversation we had on September 10th, 2001?” Jobey looked momentarily flustered. With a visible effort, Alex calmed. “But I will admit that she didn’t sound particularly upset, and I know her well enough now to be able to tell when she’s hiding her emotions. The only time she actually sounded sad was when she mentioned Milly.”

“Sprout?” Now Joe really sounded surprised. “What on earth did Cassie have to say about her?”

“Just that we needed to make sure she knows we love her. Cassie wouldn’t be more specific than that.” Alex stared up at the ceiling. “I should call Gabriella. Pix is bound to be out of her head with worry by now.” 

“Leave it for a few hours,” Jobey advised. “Until we know for sure.” Alex nodded unhappily. Jobey patted his shoulder. “You should get out of here for a while. Get something to eat, stretch your legs…” 

“I don’t want to leave you.”

“I know, but I’m fine. Comfortable. And hospitals always have a bad effect on your mental health. You need to take care of yourself too, you know.” A brief silence. “Have you called Mac yet?”

Alex stiffened. “I thought I’d wait for the official diagnosis.”

“You should call him. He’ll be on the first plane from Scotland the moment he hears, you know that.”

“I really don’t want to deal with him right now, Joe.”

“Then call Amanda.” Alex raised an eyebrow at his partner, clearly incredulous. “Don’t look at me like that. She’s matured a lot, these last few years. And I want you to have someone with you.” Jobey lowered his voice. “Somebody who understands.”

“Oh, god.” Alex covered his face with his hands. “The last time I cried on Amanda’s shoulder was just before Alexa died. It feels like history is repeating itself enough as it is, thank you very much.” He shoved himself out of Jobey’s lap and off of the bed, started pacing nervously in front of the window. For the first time Jobey looked really upset, but he just stayed silent, watching Alex. At last Alex slowed. “You and your fucking taste in music,” he said. “I was doing all right until you had to sing that song.”

“I’m sorry. I thought it was one of your favorites.”

“It was. Before current events brought home to me just how impossible the sentiment really is.” Alex dropped into the chair at Jobey’s bedside. “I *can’t* wait for you, Joe. When you leave, I’ll have to go on, somehow. And the very thought is killing me.”

“I know.” Jobey’s smile was serene and lovely. “But I can wait for you.”

For a moment Alex just stared at his partner as if he’d gone mad. Then a slow, soft smile lit his face. “Would you?”

“Absolutely. In that valley at the edge of the river, along with Alexa and everyone else who’s ever loved you. I’m looking forward to it.”

“It might be a very long wait.”

“It had damn well better be. You’re supposed to live until the end of time, remember? Fortunately, I like rivers.” Jobey squeezed Alex’s hand. “I think, though, that if I run into Kronos I may be forced to kick his ass to the opposite bank. I hope that’s all right with you.”

“Perfectly all right.” Alex leaned forward and kissed Jobey on the lips. And Milly, more upset than she could ever remember being, turned around and fled.

She was so upset that she ended up taking the wrong bus. By the time a kindly shopkeeper downtown got her straightened out and on the right bus, Milly couldn’t hold back her tears. She pushed past the bewildered driver at her stop and ran up her home street with her face blotchy red and her unbraided hair flying wildly behind her, feeling more helpless than she ever had. Fortunately Gabriella’s car was still missing, so Milly didn’t have to explain either her absence or her tears. She ran straight into her bedroom and flung herself on the bed.

But she’d forgotten about Brian. The former construction manager swaggered into her room a few moments after she ran in, beer bottle in hand. “Where the hell have you been?” he asked, sounding more bewildered than angry. “You’ve been gone for hours. Where did you go?”

“The hospital.”

“The hospital?” Brian looked stunned. “How on earth did you get there?”

“I took the bus.”

“You took the bus? All the way across town? Oh, Christ,” Brian groaned. “You went to see the fags, didn’t you. I can’t believe you wasted good money on those…” Milly just started crying harder. Brian stared at her for several moments, then put his bottle down on her dresser. A few seconds later she felt the mattress dip as he sat down beside her. “You really love those freaks, don’t you,” Brian said gruffly, and Milly was startled to hear that he actually sounded sympathetic. Or at least as sympathetic as Brian got. “What happened? The old guy really sick?” Milly nodded. “What’s he got? AIDS?”

“C-colon cancer.”

“Oh, geez.” Brian looked faintly green. “Probably got it from taking it up the ass so much,” he muttered, then swallowed hard and patted her awkwardly on the back. “Sorry,” he said, somewhat apologetically. “Look, you really need to stop crying now. What’ll your mom say when she sees you?”

There was some wisdom to this. Milly took a few deep breaths, trying to calm down. Brian surveyed her approvingly, then tugged on her arm. “Come on. I’ll help you wash your face.” 

Reluctantly, Milly followed him into the bathroom. Brian sat her down on the toilet seat and ran some hot water onto a washcloth. With startling gentleness, he sponged off Milly’s face. Much to her surprise, Milly began to feel a little better. “There, that’s good,” Brian said. “Y’know, you really are becoming a very pretty girl, Millicent.” Milly looked away; there was something about the way Brian said that last sentence that made her extremely uncomfortable. He must have sensed it to, because he suddenly pulled away, looking awkward. “But your hair is a rat’s nest. Gotta fix that before you mother sees.”

Milly reached for her hairbrush. Brian batted her hands away. “Nuh-uh-uh,” he said. “I’ll do it. State you’re in, you’ll probably just snarl it worse, and what would your mother say then?” Milly started to protest, but Brian held the brush out of her reach. “What’s the matter? Don’t you think I can brush hair? I can, you know. I had five little sisters, once upon a time.”

Milly was startled. She had never heard Brian mention his family at all before. “Where are they now?”

“Oh, here and there,” Brian said, with a negligent wave of his hand. “Most of them don’t want to have anything to do with their big brother anymore. Their loss.” He sat down on the edge of the tub, waving the hairbrush in the air. “Come here.”

Milly didn’t want to go. But Brian’s eyes held something of a command, and so, still sniffling, she joined him on the bathtub’s edge. It felt weird, being so close to him, especially when Brian twisted and pulled her back into his chest, blue-jeaned thighs straddling her hips. But the hands that worked through the tangles in her hair were gentle, and amazingly skilled when they divided her hair into sections and began to weave them into a very creditable French braid. “I told you, I had a lot of sisters,” Brian said gruffly as he wove. “My mom worked, so I did a lot of braiding in the mornings when I had to get them ready for school. There, now.” He wrapped a ponytail holder around the end of the braid and handed her a mirror. “Looks good, don’t it? Bet you never thought old Brian could do something like that, huh?”

Milly took a good look at herself. Truth be told, her hair hadn’t looked so good since before Abuela had died. Milly did a fairly good job of braiding her hair into two ordinary pigtails every morning herself, but Abuela had never taught her how to French braid, and Gabriella never seemed to have the time to help her anymore. “It does look good,” she said, and, because Abuela had raised her to be polite whenever someone helped her, she added a very grudging “Thank you.”

It may have been grudging, but it made Brian’s eyes light up. “I guess old Brian’s not such a bad guy after all, now is he?” Uncomfortable, Milly looked away. “You know, Milly,” he continued, “you really should start thinking about being nicer to me. It’s real important to your mom that we get along and…well, there are lots of things I can do for you, if you make it worth my while. Hair-braiding is just the start.” He smiled at her toothily. “I won’t tell your mom about you taking the bus to the hospital by yourself. It would just upset her, and I know neither of us wants to do that. It’ll just stay our little secret. Okay?”

Milly nodded uneasily. She backed out of the bathroom and went to make a second garland for Jobey.

***

The next morning after breakfast, Gabriella told Milly that Jobey’s biopsy had been positive. Brian for once refrained from making any nasty comments, although Milly could see him making faces as he carried his dishes to the sink. Gabriella carefully explained what was going to happen next: Jobey would have surgery to remove the tumors, then undergo several months of chemotherapy. She added that Milly shouldn’t worry…as Jobey had said in the hospital, his particular form of cancer was very treatable, with a very high survival rate. Milly was not reassured. She spent the afternoon of Jobey’s surgery sitting by the phone, nibbling her fingernails down to nothing. 

But the surgery went well, and Jobey came home a few days later, looking tired and grey but with a very loving smile for the young girl who met him on the porch with two handmade origami garlands. Unfortunately, a smile was pretty much all Jobey had the energy for. Alex ended up carrying him directly from the car into the bedroom, and Milly slunk home, feeling helpless and sad and very, very out of place. She moped listlessly around the house, too unhappy even to read. And the few fingernails she had left disappeared altogether. 

Surprisingly, Brian didn’t comment on either the moping or the damage Milly was doing to her hands, although Milly felt his eyes on her repeatedly. When Gabriella came home for dinner that night, he cleared the away the dishes and whispered something in Gabriella’s ear. Gabriella looked surprised, but nodded. Milly didn’t know why until Brian vanished into the hall and returned with his keys, jingling them in his hands while he looked at Milly. “Come on, girl,” he said. “Let’s go for a drive.”

“Where?”

“Gotta come along to find out, don’t you?”

Milly wasn’t sure she wanted to find out. But Gabriella smiled and made little shooing motions with her hands, so Milly figured she didn’t have a choice. She got into Brian’s big, battered pickup truck with extreme reluctance, and she spent the trip smooshed over as far as she could get on the seat. But Brian just drove her to the grocery store, where he handed her the unbelievable sum of twenty dollars in cash to buy some flowers for Jobey. “If you’re careful not to pick something too expensive, you can buy two bouquets,” he said. “We’ll put them in water when we get home, have them all nice for you to take to him tomorrow.”

Milly could hardly believe her ears. But the offer was much too good to refuse. She flew to the floral department and picked out two bouquets, one of bright yellow daisies and one of the big purple dahlias Jobey had once said reminded him of his mother. The flowers didn’t smell very much, but even so Milly spent the entire trip home with her nose pressed into them, cellophane wrapping crinkling against her cheeks. “Feel better?” Brian asked as they drove.

Milly nodded. “Yes.”

“Yeah, I thought you might,” Brian said with a nod. “I remember when my mom got sick. The worst part’s the feeling like there’s nothin’ you can do, ain’t it?” Milly nodded, startled that Brian was capable of this much perception. He gave her a tiny smile and returned his eyes to the road. “I remember, I saved up and got her some flowers, spent a whole afternoon arranging ‘em in the vase just right. Her boyfriend gave me a black eye for acting like a girl when he caught me at it, but it helped. Doing something helped.” He was quiet for a while, then spoke more firmly. “You know, I talked to your mom last night. With the old fa—with the old guy being sick and all, they’re probably not going to want you around too much next door. Especially if the old one ends up in diapers or something. The young one’s not going to be able to look after you the way he was.” Brian glanced slyly Milly’s way. “You and I are going to have to spend a lot more time together.”

It felt like getting punched in the stomach, the idea that Jobey and Alex might not want her around anymore. Milly let the flowers crash into her lap. Brian continued calmly: “Your mom’s working a lot of hours now, and I ain’t, so it’s only right that I do my part and look after you. Starting tomorrow, I’ll do your hair every morning—your mom just don’t have the time. I’ll take you shopping for your back to school stuff, too. And when school starts, I’ll drive you. I know what middle school boys get up to on those buses. No little girl of mine is going to ride one of those things.” His voice lowered, and he reached out a hand to touch Milly’s knee, palm sweaty against the bare skin below her shorts. “From now on, whenever you need anything, I’ll take care of you. You won’t need anybody else.”

Milly swallowed hard and moved her leg away.

*** 

Brian was as good as his word. Just two weeks later he took her shopping, buying her a number of short skirts, fitted baby tees, and very tight, low-slung, glitter-embossed jeans. The styles were currently quite fashionable amongst Milly’s middle school peers but they were considerably more…body conscious…than anything Milly would have chosen for herself. She didn’t dare complain, but she made sure to keep some of her old jeans and t-shirts to change into whenever she went to Jobey and Alex’s. At least she did until Jobey, who was lying in bed while Milly read to him, inquired in a tired kind of way: “Hey Sprout, those pants are getting kind of short for you, aren’t they? Haven’t you and Gabriella hit the back-to-school sales yet?” After which Milly was forced to wear the new outfits, glitter and all. One pair of jeans in particular, which had wide bell bottom legs and a string of rhinestones decorating each side seam, made Alex jump back in mock-astonishment when he walked into Jobey’s bedroom. “Good lord, it’s the 1970s all over again,” he said, pretending to shield his eyes. “Pixie, is that you blinding me with your brilliance? Or am I having an unfortunate country-and-western flashback?”

She flushed. “It’s me,” she confirmed. “They…well, these pants are very fashionable now.”

Alex raised his eyebrows and seemed about to speak, but Jobey interrupted him. “Don’t tease her, Alex,” he said. “She’s growing up. Peer pressure had to happen sometime.” He gave Milly an understanding look. “I think the pants look very festive, Sprout. And they’ll probably help you fit in a bit better at school this year, huh?” 

She nodded, relieved that Jobey would accept that as an explanation and let the subject drop. For some odd reason, Milly felt uncomfortable telling the men that the clothes had been Brian’s choice. In fact, she felt uneasy mentioning Brian in any way. After they’d come home from the shopping, Brian had laid down a lot of new rules for the upcoming school year: rules like forbidding her to join any school sports teams or after-school clubs, and not allowing her to talk on the phone after six at night. Neither of these was too onerous—Milly had very few school friends she talked to on the phone anyway, and she already knew that Gabriella couldn’t afford the extra fees for after school activities. Even so the rules felt strangely wrong, as did much of Brian’s behavior these days. She wanted to talk to Alex and Jobey about it, but…

But Gabriella kept taking Milly aside to insist that Jobey and Alex had more than enough worries on their hands right now, and Milly could see with her own eyes that this was true. Jobey really was very sick. After school started, Milly still went over to their house every afternoon, but the laughter-filled snacks and homework sessions she’d been used to were now a thing of the past. More often than not, she’d do her homework quietly in the living room while Alex fed Jobey and gave him his medicine, and then she’d go into the bedroom and read to Jobey for half an hour before going home. Jobey was always glad to see her, and asked her lots of questions about what was happening at school. But it was very hard seeing him lying so weakly on the pillows, so obviously tired and in pain. 

One day Brian woke up in a bad mood and dragged Milly bodily into the bathroom to do her hair, complaining loudly about what an annoying bitch she was, what a nuisance it was to take care of her. When she got home from school that day and changed her clothes Milly was startled to see that she had a row of finger-shaped bruises on each of her upper arms. Uneasily, Milly slunk next door…and found Alex whistling in the backyard, a large leather tool belt around his waist. There was what looked like an entire home improvement store’s worth of two-by-fours stacked upon the patio. “Hey, Pix,” he greeted when he saw her. “You’re just the person I wanted to see. Put your books in the house and come help me. It’s Friday, homework can wait for a bit.”

It wouldn’t have mattered even if it wasn’t Friday. Alex hadn’t asked her to help with a project since Jobey had gotten sick, and Milly really missed working at his side. She quickly dropped off her books, wincing a little as her book bag strap slid over her bruises, then returned to eye the triangular framework of two-by-fours Alex had nailed together skeptically. “What are you making?”

“A ramp to replace the porch steps. I want Jobey to be able to get into the garden in his wheelchair by himself.”

Milly stared. “But…but Jobey doesn’t need the wheelchair to get around during the day,” she protested, appalled. “Just at night, when it’s too much work to put on his legs.”

“That used to be true,” Alex agreed, making a measurement and noting it down on one of the two-by-fours. “But walking on artificial legs is much harder than walking on real ones, Pix. It takes a lot out of Jobey at the best of times, and now, with the chemotherapy leaving him so weak—well, it’s just too much, that’s all. He’ll be traveling by wheel for several months at least, if not the entire year. So I wanted to make it easier for him to get out of the house. We’ll make a ramp to replace the front porch steps, too.” Alex nodded at tools he’d left lying on the porch. “Fetch me that hammer, will you Pix?”

Feeling sick to her stomach, Milly fetched. She spent the rest of the afternoon trying to hide her feelings while Alex kept up a steady monolog about the times he’d worked with wood in the past, telling her all about the year he’d spent apprenticed to a master cabinet maker in Milan, and the saloon he’d once helped build with somebody named Sundance. Milly wasn’t really listening, despite the fact that it was rare for Alex to chatter so freely about his pre-Jobey past. Her whole world was falling apart. If Jobey was willingly giving up his legs—for a whole year!--then he must be sicker than anyone had thought. Gabriella was right. Milly really couldn’t do anything to upset her heroes in any way.

So she kept quiet about her bruises, making sure her shirt sleeves covered them as they worked. From that day on, she never said a word to anyone about Brian, the things he said or the things he did. And everyday, as Brian drove Milly to school, his hand crept a little higher up her thigh.

***

“Come here.”

It was nearly a year later, a beautiful autumn Saturday just a few weeks after Milly’s 11th birthday. Alex and Jobey were away, attending their first open-air concert since Jobey had gotten sick. Jobey was doing much better now, energetic and cancer-free; he still used the wheelchair to get around, but both he and Alex were confident that his days on wheels were numbered. The men had been very excited about going to the concert, laughing and joking as freely as they had before Jobey’s diagnosis. Milly had seen them off with a hug and then let herself into the couple’s backyard, relieved beyond measure to have an afternoon alone to herself. But Brian had seen her and was now looming over her, having entered the garden via Milly’s old path between the butterfly bushes on the hill. “Didn’t you hear me, girl?” he snapped now, hands on his hips. “I told you to come here.”

Milly knew immediately what he intended, from the expression on his face and the way his eyes lingered on her small, half-budded breasts. It was a look she had come to know well ever since the previous Christmas Eve, when Brian had first started coming into her room after Gabriella was asleep. That first night had been awful, full of pain and shame and tears, tears Milly had held back only because Brian threatened to kill her mother if Milly made enough noise to wake her up—or if she ever told anyone what had happened. Eight months later, Milly had more or less gotten used to the periodic assaults. She’d become very good at turning off her brain, simply disappearing into some secret place inside until Brian got tired and left her alone again. But he’d never followed her to Jobey and Alex’s before. Now, the thought that he might try this here, in the one safe place Milly had left, filled her with panic. “No,” she said, but Brian was already moving toward her; already dragging her across the yard by her t-shirt before she had a chance to retreat, already twisting her around so that his crotch was grinding against her backside and his arms were wrapped around her chest, iron-bar tight. She could hear his breathing, harsh and irregular, and she felt her already numb heart break—not here, not here, this shouldn’t be happening here! She closed her eyes as one of Brian’s hands wormed its way up under her skirt and into her panties. “Please. Not here.”

“Not here, little girl? What, you wanted roses and satin sheets?” Brian grunted. He was already rubbing up against her, one arm still holding her in that iron grip, insanely excited. “Or are you just afraid your fairy friends might see us? Don’t be stupid—they’re gone, went to some fag-culture-show at the park. And it’s not like they probably haven’t fucked out here a thousand times already. Although for the life of me, I can’t imagine how the young one gets it up when they do. That old guy’s gotten really repulsive.” His hand slipped lower, started rubbing at a tiny nubby place that simultaneously hurt and ached with pleasurable anticipation. “Mmmm. Nice and wet for me already.”

Milly bent her head, too defeated even to cry. Because Brian was right, she was moist between her legs, and while she didn’t know much she knew that was a shameful thing, as shameful as the pleasure that cramped in her middle. Brian had gloated about that a lot, the first time he had touched her; gloated about what a little slut she was, how much she enjoyed what they did. It always made tears of humiliation come to Milly’s eyes, because she knew deep down that Brian was partly right. Sometimes in the middle of the night she would think about Alex or even Jobey—whom Milly didn’t find repulsive at all—touching her like this, and she’d feel this same rush of wetness and heat. And that was wrong, even worse than feeling it when Brian touched her. So she knew she was bad, knew that she deserved this, knew she was everything Brian said she was and more. Milly closed her eyes. In a few minutes she was going to get all sweaty and weird and feel that strange feeling like her body was breaking apart…and yes, here it came, leaving her trembling and weak. Brian held her for a second, then pushed her away. “Get on your knees,” he said roughly.

Too tired and heart-sore to argue, Milly did, knowing what he was going to do next and that it was going to hurt like it always did but that it shouldn’t last too long. It never did when Brian was already panting that hard before they started. She felt him flip up her skirt and pull down her panties, heard him unzip his jeans. Then she heard the voice, shocked and loud, accompanied by the tell-tale squeak of wheelchair wheels. “WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?”

It was Jobey, sitting in his wheelchair on the porch. Milly had never seen anyone look so horrified. For a moment the whole scene was frozen, Jobey staring at Brian, Milly staring at Jobey, Brian staring—Milly couldn’t tell where Brian was staring, since he was still standing behind her. But she heard his voice, soft and deadly sounding. “Turn around and go back inside, old man,” he said. “Go back in to your faggy boyfriend. You haven’t seen anything.”

“Haven’t seen—you were—YOU SON OF A BITCH!” Jobey’s face went from the white of shock to the red of a killing rage in less then a second. In that moment, all the strength that had left him during the last year seemed to return. Milly watched as Jobey gave his wheelchair a mighty heave with his arms, causing the chair to shoot down the ramp to the patio like a juggernaught. He grabbed a shovel that was leaning against the railing as he went. Brian swore loudly and let Milly go, meeting Jobey halfway across the pavement—Jobey swung with the shovel. He only missed connecting with Brian’s midsection by inches, but he’d overbalanced himself during the swing. The wheelchair tipped over, spilling the crippled man to the ground.

Brian picked up the shovel. He stood over Jobey’s body and started to swing. 

“NO!!!!!”

Milly had never screamed so loudly in her life. She knew, then, that Jobey was going to die. Brian was going to kill him, and it would all, all be her fault. But suddenly there was Alex, appearing in the doorway. In the slow-motion stop time that followed, Milly saw exactly where Alex’s eyes went—she saw him look from Jobey to Brian to the crumpled panties still clinging to one of her ankles, and she knew Alex knew everything, had understood it all in just one glance. He said something Milly couldn’t hear, but it must have gotten Brian’s attention because he looked up, pausing in mid swing. Alex strode across the porch, using a frighteningly smooth, aggressive step Milly had never seen before, face calm and businesslike as he moved into Brian’s space. Brian swung. 

The shovel connected.

Alex crumpled to the ground.

CLANG. Milly was screaming loudly, but she could hear all the other sounds anyway—the horrible, almost bell like way the metal shovel rang out as it struck the paving, the crunch of bone, the sickening squishing sound of metal impacting with flesh. CLANG went the shovel again, and Alex’s beautiful head was suddenly distended and misshapen, blood clotting in the lovely dark hair. CLANG a third time and the blood was now everywhere and the back of Alex’s head no longer looked human at all, and Milly both couldn’t bear to see it and couldn’t look away. Her screams died away into silence. Brian froze solid, looking horrified. He dropped the shovel, letting it fall on the ground near his feet. 

“You son of a bitch.” A quiet voice, coming from the pavement near the overturned wheelchair. Milly turned her head to see Jobey pushing himself into a seated position, face and arm scraped raw from his fall to the ground. His missing legs were somehow a dozen times more shocking against the brick of the patio than in the familiar confines of the chair. “You stupid, stupid, son of bitch. What do you think you’ve done?”

“I—“ For a second, Brian seemed absolutely speechless. Then his face settled into harsh, angry lines. “Looks like I’ve cleaned up the neighborhood a bit,” he said, and stared Joe right in the face. “You gonna be quiet, old man? You gonna be quiet when the police come? Because if you don’t, I’ll be happy to do you just the same as I did your boyfriend here.”

Joe shook his head. He looked as calm as Alex had. “I won’t say anything,” he said. “I won’t have to. Look.”

He nodded at Alex’s body. Brian looked down, and absolutely all the color drained out of his blood-spattered face. Because Alex’s body was no longer lying still. His head…his head was reshaping. 

Milly would never forget the sight. It was like something out of horror movie, complete with Frankenstein-ian flickers of blue lightning crawling out of Alex’s broken skull. As Milly watched, the flattened portions of Alex’s head inflated, and new white scalp crawled across the bloody open wounds. The sound effects were indescribable, part sucking liquidity, part gritting porcelain-on-porcelain as bones realigned and healed. “What the…” Brian whispered.

“Some of us fags are harder to kill than others,” Jobey said. He almost sounded amused. “You should have stuck to terrorizing children, buddy. My Alex is way out of your league.”

Brian stared from the toppled old man to the body at his feet, crawling with blood and new life. “What the hell is wrong with you? What the fuck is going on…” Then Alex’s eyes, which had been staring glazed and dead up at the sky, suddenly blinked, and Alex’s whole body spasmed as his lungs took in a deep breath. Brian screamed. And promptly took of running, leaving a trail of broken bushes behind.

“Good riddance,” Jobey said under his breath. “Sprout? Sprout, honey? Are you all right?” Milly stayed quiet, her eyes locked on Alex. “Ask a stupid question,” Joe said. “Listen to me, sweetheart. I need your help. Do you think if you tried you could help me get back into my wheelchair?” Milly still said nothing. “Okay,” Jobey said. “Okay, I don’t blame you. I guess I wouldn’t be too talkative either if I’d just been through what you’ve been through. Stay right where you are for me, okay sweetie? I need to check on Alex.”

With great effort, Jobey rolled himself onto his stomach and began to pull himself by his arms over the brick. A few minutes later, Jobey was at his lover’s side, cradling the still-bloody but mercifully reformed head in his hands. “Methos. Methos, love,” he said softly. “I’m here, and the bastard is gone. Take all the time you need to come back.”

There was a silence, then another of those long, horrible breaths…and then Milly heard a voice. It was tired and gritty and thick with pain, but it was unquestionably Alex’s. She started to shake. “Joe?”

“Shh. I’m here, and so is the Sprout. We’re safe. For the moment, anyway.”

“Good.” Alex brought a hand to his forehead, frowned when it came away covered with blood. “Oh, god,” he said. “It feels like I was hit in the head with a shovel.”

“That’s because you were, beloved. I think your neck was broken, too.” Jobey stroked the bloody hair tenderly. “I could have gone the rest of my life without knowing just what those marvelous brains of yours looked like leaking outside your skull, you know.”

“I could have gone another couple of millennia without being reminded of what it’s like to have them leak, myself,” Alex said wryly, and started to jerk upright. “Pixie…”

“Shh,” Jobey said, pushing him down. “She’s right over there. He didn’t hurt her.” His face grew stormy. “Not anymore than he already had, anyway. I think she’s gone into traumatic withdrawal.”

“Can’t blame her,” Alex echoed Jobey’s earlier words, and added another groan. “And you?”

“I’m a bit bruised and scraped up from the brick. No permanent damage. But I’d appreciate you getting me back into my chair as soon as you can.”

“Just let me get a little feeling back into my fingers.” Jobey nodded, and Alex sat up, coughing as he did. He looked around the backyard. “That bastard…” 

“Ran away. Your magic reassembling skull trick scared him off.”

“How much did he see?”

“Pretty much everything.”

“Any chance he’ll be too terrified to tell anyone? Or was drunk enough that no one will believe him if he does?”

“None whatsoever. The asshole was dead-cold sober as far as I could tell. And he’s not exactly the cautious type.”

“No. He isn’t.” Alex covered his face with his hands for a moment, then rubbed his cheeks and forehead in a vain attempt to wipe away some of the caking blood. He shot an agonized look in Pixie’s direction. “Oh, god, Joe. We’ve been compromised, haven’t we.”

“Looks like it.”

“There’s no guessing who he’ll tell, whose ears the story will reach. Under normal circumstances I’d just balls it out and discredit him, but we’ve had too many close calls this year. Somebody will figure it out. And with Kahvin Hunting again, getting so close…” Alex looked at Jobey bleakly. “We’ll have to resort to the emergency measures.”

“Yeah,” Jobey agreed hollowly. “That’s what I figured, too.” He shook his head sadly. “I can’t believe it’s ending like this. We’ve been so happy here.” 

“I know.” Alex looked around the yard with sad, fond eyes, the eyes of a man who’s saying goodbye in his heart. He gathered himself together with a visible effort. “But you know what they say. All good things…” 

“Must come to an end. Yeah. Yeah, I know. Help me back into the chair.” Alex pushed himself to his feet and retrieved the chair. After a moment of well-practiced heaving, Jobey was once again seated and mobile. “I’ll get the emergency passports out of the lockbox in the bedroom,” he said, already wheeling his way up the ramp toward the house. “We’ll take my car, it’ll be easier to abandon in the river than the VW…oh shit! Shit, shit!”

“What’s wrong?”

“We were going to leave the house and all the other property to the Sprout, in trust with her mother until she came of age.” Joe yanked his head in the direction Brian had run in. “Do you really trust Gabriella’s judgment now? Knowing that she’s slept with *that* for the last three years?” 

“You’re right. We’ll stop at the lawyer’s on the way out of town, set up one of the senior partners as trustee. It will look suspicious, but by the time anyone really gets around to asking questions, we’ll be long gone.” Alex frowned. “I wish we could appoint Duncan or Amanda as trustee instead, but it’s better that we leave no connection. Because…” He looked at Jobey levelly. “Because it’s not just Kahvin and the new rogue Watchers who are going to come looking for us. I have some clean-up to do, where dear Mr. Smith is concerned. I’ll do my best not to leave any evidence the police can find, but...”

“Yeah. Yeah, I see what you mean.” Joe’s voice was quiet. He looked at Milly, who was still sitting exactly where she had fallen on the patio, staring incredulously at the pool of blood Alex had lain in and the shovel Brian had dropped on the ground. “Do what you can for the Sprout. I’ll get the car ready.”

“Yes.” 

The bloody shovel seemed to have filled Milly’s whole world. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from it, and her body wouldn’t move enough to let her turn her head. Alex’s booted feet crossed her field of vision, and the next thing Milly knew her view of the shovel was blocked by Alex’s broad, blood-stained shoulders. His hand gently touched her cheek. “Pixie. Milly, sweetheart. Can you hear me?” She made no sound. “Milly, listen closely. I know you’re very scared right now, and that all you want to do is find a safe place inside where you can hide and none of this has to be real. But I need your help, so can you come out and talk to me? Just for a minute?”

It seemed like his voice was coming from a long way away, and Milly really didn’t want to answer him. Moving would break the spell she was in, make it all real just as Alex said. But—Alex was calling, and he said he needed her help. Reluctantly, she nodded slightly, and heard Alex’s deep breath of relief. “That’s my good girl,” he said. “I need you to listen very closely, now. You don’t have to say anything, but you need to listen to me, and try really hard to remember everything I say, okay?” Another slight nod. “Milly, a lot of things are going to happen very quickly now. Jobey and I have to leave, but after we do a number of strange people are going to come and ask you a lot of questions—policemen, doctors, social workers. When they do, I want you to tell them everything that Mr. Smith did to you. Everything he said, every way he touched you. I especially want you to be honest with the doctors and the nurses when they take you to the hospital. It’s going to be hard, and I wish I could go with you, but you’re going to be a very brave girl for me. You’re going to let them do all the tests they need to make sure you’re all right. Will you promise me you’ll do that?” Another dazed nod. Alex gave her a quick hug then continued, more soberly. “Okay. I want you to listen even more carefully, now. What I *don’t* want you to do is to tell the nice doctors or social workers anything about Jobey and me. Oh, you can tell them all about Jobey’s music and the cooking and the maps, but when it comes to anything strange you’ve seen—especially any other names you’ve ever heard us call each other, or any of our guests—you’re not to say anything. You’re especially not to say anything about what happened here in the garden today. As far as you’re concerned, Jobey and I never came home from the concert at all. You haven’t seen us since this morning. Do you understand?”

Milly swallowed. “Yes,” she said. Alex cradled her closer, and Milly felt sticky wetness against her cheek. She pulled back, saw that Alex was wearing her gift shirt, and that the fabric was now so tattered and bloody that the words “Reunite Pangaea” were completely illegible. “Your shirt’s all messy,” she said distantly.

“Yes, sweetheart. Shame, huh? Makes me wish I’d worn something else today. But don’t worry about it—fortunately I’ve had a lot of practice in getting blood out of things. I’ll wash it up, and it’ll be fine.” He smiled at her tenderly, giving her a look of love that was terrible incongruent with the blood clinging to his forehead and cheek. “I could never throw out my Pixie’s present.”

She touched the bloodstain in confusion. As if drawn by an irresistible force she craned her neck to look over Alex’s shoulder, gaze once again falling on the bloody shovel. “Brian hurt you.”

“Yes, sweetheart. He hurt all of us, today.”

Her hand stretched out impotently toward the shovel, wanting to touch it, but it was too far away. “But you’re okay now,” she said. “How did you…”

“That’s a secret,” Alex said. He picked her up and resolutely set her on her feet, kneeling before her as he briskly smoothed down her skirt and brushed the dirt from her hair. “And no, I’m not going to tell you what the secret is. Not because you don’t deserve to know it. You’ve proved yourself eminently worthy, Pixie, more trustworthy than anybody in my current life besides Jobey. The only reason I’m not going to tell you is because knowing would put you in danger, and despite what you think sometimes, you are still a very little girl, too little to cope with that kind of danger on your own. I only wish I—“ He bit the sentence off, a tight set to his chin, and continued. “Never mind. I need you to listen closely, now. There’s a few more things you need to know. Jobey and I are going to go away…”

“Are you coming back?”

“No, sweetheart. I’m afraid that’s not possible.” Alex said sadly. “Okay. There are three things I need you to know. First, as you heard Jobey say, this house and everything else we leave behind is yours. You’re still too little to own property, but we’re leaving it for you in trust. The lawyer will probably sell it and invest the money for you, and when you’re grown there should be enough money to pay your way through your first four years of college at least. After that you can get scholarships or work to support your graduate studies. Because you are going to go to graduate school, aren’t you, Pixie. Get your PhD, just like we talked about.” Dazed, Milly nodded. “The second thing you need to know is that Jobey and I are going to take care of Mr. Smith before we leave, so you don’t ever, ever have to worry about him coming back. And the final thing you need to know is that *none* of this was your fault. Not Jobey getting hurt, not our having to leave, and especially not the way Brian was touching you. I don’t expect you’ll believe me until you’re a lot older, but it’s true, and when you start feeling guilty I want you to remember what I said. I know your head has to be feeling pretty funny right now, and you might get confused about everything I’ve told you. But if you remember nothing else that I’ve told you in the last five minutes, just that, I’ll be very happy and proud. All right?”

Her head swirling, Milly managed a tiny yes. “That’s my good girl, my beautiful Pixie,” Alex said. “Now. Is there anything you want to ask me?” 

Milly thought. Yes, there were a few thousand things she wanted to ask. Important things like how a human head could possibly heal after being bashed in, and where Alex and Jobey were going. And stupid, silly things she’d never gotten around to asking but always figured Alex would know, like why the sky was blue and why radishes sprouted quicker than poppies and how people like Brian could be the way they were. But there was only one thing that really mattered now. “Am I going to ever see you again?”

“No, sweetheart.” Alex swallowed hard, and once again he pulled her fiercely into his chest, holding her tight. “It’s too dangerous. Someday you’ll understand—well, maybe you won’t. I can’t help that, can’t explain. But we love you, Jobey and I. I wish—” In the distance, Milly heard a car engine start up, heard Jobey holler “Alex! We’re ready.” “We’re out of time,” Alex said grimly. “All right, Pixie. I want you to go home now, and wait for the police to come. When they do, you’re going to do just what we talked about, all right? Tell them how Brian touched you, and remember that you haven’t seen Jobey or me all day. Okay?”

“Alex!” It was a louder shout this time.

“Coming!” Alex shouted, and turned back to Milly. “All right, Pix. I wish we had more time, but we don’t. Just—” He gave her a soft kiss on her forehead. “Just remember that we love you, please. You’ve made this particular life worth living.” Another kiss, and then Alex was standing up and pulling Milly to her feet along with himself. “Go home now,” he whispered. 

Milly went.

She sank down in the middle off the front step, clutching Abuela’s long abandoned rocking chair with one hand. Somehow, she just couldn’t make herself go inside. Jobey was already in his car, the wheelchair just outside the driver’s door. Milly watched Alex fold it up and stow it in the trunk, then get in the passenger side. The black sedan drove away with an impressive burst of speed, and Milly watched it disappear around the corner at the end of the street without crying, because she was Alex’s brave girl. She sat and sat, remembering that they loved her.

***

Alex had been right. A lot of things happened very quickly then, and over the next few days many different people asked Milly a truly staggering number of questions. She remembered pretty much everything that Alex had told her and did her best to do what he said, including letting the strange doctor at the hospital go over her body in search of DNA evidence. At one point she heard her mother, hysterical and sobbing, in the hall outside, and the police woman who had come into the examination room with Milly asked Milly if she wanted to see her. Milly shook her head. Somehow, she knew instinctively that her old life was over. After all, it had been Alex and Jobey, not Gabriella, who had made that life worth living for her, too. With them gone, she had no reason to go back.

And they were gone. It took several months for the police to officially conclude their investigation, but eventually the grave child psychiatrist who had been assigned to Milly’s case told her what she’d already seen on the local news. The police were convinced that Milly’s step-father had murdered Alex and probably Jobey as well in a particularly brutal hate crime, then gone home and raped Milly before stealing Jobey’s car and disposing of the corpses. The fact that they never found any bodies couldn’t argue with the amount of blood and brain matter they found smeared over the couple’s back porch, and the fact that Milly had Alex’s blood on her face and clothes proved that her assault had happened after the murder, not before. Milly knew better, but she didn’t argue. She simply did what Alex had told her to do—telling them about the last months of abuse, then keeping her mouth shut about everything else that had occurred that horrible afternoon. And she tried to remember that they loved her.

The very solemn psychiatrist then told her that the police hadn’t found Brian, in fact had no idea where he was. He had apparently disappeared into thin air after making a brief appearance at a busy local bar, ranting and raving to everyone about shovels and faggots who wouldn’t stay dead. “But you don’t have to be worried, Millicent,” the psychiatrist said. “We’re going to put you in foster care. Nobody, not even your mother, will know where you are. You’ll be safe.” Milly didn’t tell him that she knew she was safe already—Alex had said he’d take care of Brian, and she believed that as fully as she believed everything else he’d ever told her. She just nodded. “Milly, do you want to talk about any of this?” the psychiatrist asked, clearly exasperated by her silence. “I know it must be hard, thinking about going into foster care. But your mother’s had a bit of a break down, and we really think it’s best…”

“I don’t want to live with my mother,” Milly said dismissively, and shifted on her chair as a new thought occurred to her. “This foster home. Will I still go to school?” 

“Yes, Millicent. Of course. It won’t be the same school you were in, but…”

Milly interrupted him with an imperious wave of her hand, both wave and imperiousness patterned directly after her memories of Amanda. “And then I can go to college?”

The psychiatrist blinked. “Well, yes, of course, if you want to,” he said. “There’s no reason why…I mean, there will be plenty of money to pay for it. Both Dr. Porter and Mr. Darwin left you their entire estates in their wills. But…” He looked again, mind boggled by the image of the little eleven-year-old Hispanic girl being so positive about her future. “What do you want to study?”

“Physical geography. I’m going to get my PhD.” *Because Alex said I should.*

“I see.” The psychiatrist was surprised, but game. “Well, well. That’s certainly a—that’s a very positive goal for a young lady your age to have.” He suddenly leaned forward, speaking earnestly. “Hold onto your goals, Millicent. Don’t let anyone take them away from you. They will help you through.”

Milly nodded again, although she disagreed entirely. It wasn’t her goals that were helping her through. It was her memory. Specifically, her memories of maps hung low on an office wall and Capital City twister played in a basement with the scent of homemade chili coming down the stairs. Her memories of being loved. She said nothing for the rest of their appointment, and when the psychiatrist finally said her time was up, Milly got to her feet and walked out. 

***

“Is this the home of Millicent Alfonso? Dr. Millicent Alfonso?”

Millicent Alfonso, PhD, most recent addition to the University of New Mexico Las Cruces’s geography department, looked up in surprise at the strange woman coming up her walk. She’d only bought this house three days ago, and was despairing of getting all her junk moved in before the fall quarter started on Monday. Few people even knew her new e-mail address, much less where she lived. “Yes, I’m Dr. Alfonso,” she said, and looked down at her very rumpled blue jeans and sweatshirt. The sweatshirt proclaimed “Cartographers Do It By Degrees” in large bold letters. “You must forgive the way I look. I just moved in, and the previous occupant left a lot of cobwebs. Can I help you, Mrs. …?”

“Dr.,” the woman corrected. “Dr. Lindsey Clarke. Though of course I’m a Mrs. too.” She chuckled nervously. “Would it be possible to talk to you inside, Dr. Alfonso? If you’re who I think you are, I’ve been waiting more than twenty years to speak to you.”

Milly frowned, but the woman looked sincere. She nodded. “Come inside.”

***

“I used to have two friends,” Dr. Clarke said without preamble, once Milly had guided her into the living room. The furnishings were very bare as yet, and Milly had to move aside some boxes so that her guest could sit down, but Dr. Clarke didn’t seem to mind. “Two very special friends.”

“Oh, yes?” Milly sat down opposite her visitor, looking her over curiously. Dr. Clarke was quite tiny, not even five feet in height, with the bird-like delicacy age brings to certain women. She kept shifting around nervously, eyes going everywhere in the room but Milly’s face. Milly got the impression that she was under quite a bit of strain. “Why don’t you tell me about them,” Milly said generously, wondering just what it was that made the woman so ill-at-ease. “Unless you’d like me to get you something to drink first?”

The doctor shook her head. “No. No thank you, Dr. Alfonso. I’d rather just tell you what I’ve come to tell you, if you don’t mind. Before you decide I’m a complete madwoman and throw me out.” Very curious now, Milly gestured for the woman to continue. Dr. Clarke took a deep breath. “My friends were both men, a couple. A somewhat unusual couple, in that Adam was considerably younger than Joe, but they were very much in love. They had that kind of deep, true devotion to each other that is all too rare. I knew them both for more than twenty years, even though they were really only together for the last nine. Well, openly together. Adam gave me the impression there was quite a story behind their couple-hood, but I never could get either of them to tell me the details…” She stopped, began again. “Anyway. In the spring of 2006 they flew to Portugal for a vacation, and there was an accident, a very bad accident. Their rental car was found in the Atlantic. When the authorities hauled it out, the bodies were gone, but they found traces of Adam’s skin and blood on the steering wheel. The driver’s side seatbelt was undone, and the passenger’s side seatbelt had been cut through with what was probably a pocket knife. The local police decided that Adam must have been driving when they went in, hit his head hard, and then drowned trying to get Joe out. It made sense. Joe was well into his fifties then, and a double amputee.” Milly stiffened. “He couldn’t have made it by himself. And we all knew Adam would never have left Joe to save his own skin, so…” Dr. Clarke trailed off. She removed a small handkerchief from her purse and dabbed at her eyes. “So we accepted the story, my husband and I, along with everyone else who loved them. We buried an empty coffin in a single grave, mourned them, and tried to go on with our lives. It wasn’t easy, but we did.” 

Milly’s fingers gripped the armrest of her chair. “You said you *did* accept it,” she said. “What changed your mind?”

“It’s that obvious that something did?” Dr. Clarke said. Milly nodded soberly. “All right. About two years later…this would have been the summer of 2008, I imagine you were still in elementary school….”

“I would have been eight.” Eight years old, and living next door to two gay men of highly disparate ages who had loved each other deeply, one half of whom had lost both his legs in Vietnam. “Please go on, Dr. Clarke.”

“Yes.” The doctor nodded. “All right. In 2008 I was reading an academic journal on linguistics. My main field is library science, but my job required that I be fluent in several ancient as well as modern languages, and I was always the sort of person who liked to read other fields’ journals for fun. Anyway, I stumbled across an article that proposed some startling new theories for the genesis of the Cyrillic alphabet and its migration across Europe. The theories were quite unconventional, but the author was clearly well-versed in his subject, and he supported all his claims brilliantly. There were several new interpretations that…well. I’m getting off track. Suffice it to say that all the time I was reading the article, I had this strange feeling of familiarity, like I somehow knew the author. There were little things about the style—much more entertaining and readable then your average academic-ese—that kept joggling my memory. Then in the last paragraph, there was a…well, a joke. A very subtle pun. You would have had to have known both old Macedonian and to have read Sin-liqe-unninni’s Epic of Gilgamesh in the original Akkadian to get it; probably less than thirty people in the entire world could have understood. The editors of the journal certainly didn’t, or they would never have let it slip through.” Dr. Clarke smirked. “It was rather…sexual…in nature, you see.” 

“I see.” Milly nodded. “But you understood?”

“Because I’d heard it before.” Dr. Clarke answered. “Adam and Joe and I—well, we all worked for a private historical research group, one that had access to materials academia in general does not. Adam in particular was a very brilliant researcher, and over the years I read more of his papers and reports than I could count. He was always slipping something into them, making some obscure reference or joke to thumb his nose at our superiors, and this particular pun was one of his best. The moment I ran across it in this paper I…well, I didn’t know what to think. I sent an e-mail to the author—his name was…”

“Dr. Alex Porter.”

“Yes.” Dr. Clarke looked relieved. “I do have the right person, then. You knew him, didn’t you? You were…” The librarian’s eyes ran over Milly, taking in the rich dark hair Milly still wore long, the large brown eyes, the delicate hands. “You were the little girl who lived next door.”

A silence passed, a long silence, during which Milly was assaulted by a hundred memories. “I knew Dr. Porter,” she said at last. “He and his partner practically raised me from the age of six to eleven. They were both brilliant, educated men, and Dr. Porter in particular was very gifted with languages. It wouldn’t surprise me at all that he had written the article you described.”

“Gifted. Yes.” Dr. Clarke nodded. “Well. Dr. Porter never answered my e-mail. By the time I was in a position to travel to the US and seek him out in person, he and his partner had disappeared, allegedly murdered by your stepfather. I saw the newspaper stories, which is how I learned about you. I tried to speak with you then, but you were so young, and your caretakers were quite rightfully protecting you from the press. There were no pictures of either man published in any of the newspapers, and your mother was unreachable, so there was no way I could confirm my theory that Alex Porter and Jobey Darwin were really the Adam Pierson and Joseph Dawson I’d known in London. I gave up, went home, tried to forget the whole thing. It wasn’t until I read about your appointment in the Las Cruces alumni magazine—my husband receives it, he got his bachelor’s here—that I remembered your name. And I started to wonder again.” Dr. Clarke reached for her purse, started rummaging through it. “Please, Dr. Alfonso. I know how crazy I must sound, really I do. But I have some pictures with me, the security badge pictures my organization took in 2006, just before my friends were killed. They aren’t very good by modern standards, but they are the only pictures I have. Would you take a look and see if they seem familiar to you? Please?”

Milly reached for the pictures. They were small and badly shot, taken against a neutral backdrop, and both men had the blank dazed expressions of people being photographed for identification purposes. Even so, Milly knew them at once. She stared, all kinds of emotions welling up in her heart. It was the first time she had ever seen a picture of either man. Alex had had some kind of paranoia about being photographed, and Jobey had picked up his partner’s habits. Not having a picture of them to hold onto was something Milly had bitterly regretted over the years. She took off her glasses, brought the pictures closer to her eye…and suddenly frowned in disappointment. “I’m so sorry, Dr. Clarke,” she said regretfully. “I know what it’s like not to know what happened to the people you love. But these can’t possibly be the Alex and Jobey I knew.”

“Why do you say that?”

“The resemblance is startling, I’ll admit. Your friends look a lot like my…my mentors. And if it was just Jobey, I’d say your theory was correct. But the man in this picture—” she pointed at the photo that looked like Alex— “has quite a bit of grey in his hair.” Milly settled back into her seat, feeling very let down. “I was too young to realize it at the time, of course, but the Alex Porter I knew was really very young. He was only in his early thirties when he received his professorship. Not quite thirty-nine when he died.”

“Oh. Oh.” Dr. Clarke fell backward, pressing her hand over her heart. “But that makes perfect sense, don’t you see?”

“Perfect sense?”

“Yes.” Dr. Clarke nodded energetically. “Dr. Alfonso, forgive me, but I must ask you a very strange question. Did you ever see either Mr. Darwin or Dr. Porter do anything…odd? Perhaps get a cut or break a bone that healed too quickly? Or even…” The librarian swallowed. “Or even come back from the dead?”

Silence descended. Milly found herself remembering the terrible sight of a bashed-in skull reassembling itself on a blood-stained patio, a memory she had long ago dismissed as a nightmare. She’d been very young, after all. And badly traumatized, much too traumatized to be expected to remember things clearly. Dr. Clarke read her face. “You did see something,” she said excitedly. “I can tell. What happened?”

Milly shrugged uncomfortably, remembering Alex’s arms around her, his worried, emphatic voice. “I don’t want you tell them anything about Jobey or me. Oh, you can tell them all about Jobey’s music and the gardening and the maps, but when it comes to anything strange you’ve seen—especially any other names you’ve ever heard Jobey and me call each other, or any of our guests—you’re not to say anything. You’re especially not to say anything about what happened here in the garden today. Do you understand?” It was a pledge Milly had kept for more than twenty years. She could not betray it now. “Dr. Clarke,” she said at last, when the silence had stretched out too long. “If you know that much about my personal history, then you must know that part of my life was…filled with tragedy. It’s not something I really want to look back upon. Or discuss with strangers.” She put on a hard, brittle smile. “I’m sure you have only good intentions, but I really think we should draw this interview to a close. If you could see yourself out…”

“Wait!” The librarian jumped to her feet, face anxious and pleading. “Wait. Please hear me out, Dr. Alfonso. There are people who walk among us, people who look and act just like normal human beings, but who aren’t, not quite. They are…different. Any illness they contract is healed at once; any wounds that are inflicted on them disappear with supernatural speed. They cannot age. And they cannot die, at least not through any ordinary means.” Dr. Clarke swallowed. “Life is very dangerous for these people. They’ve been hunted as witches and demons throughout history, and the current era is scarcely any better. If the public knew of their existence, they’d be tested and dissected and god knows what else. The ones who survive for any length of time at all quickly learn to live in secret. They move around a lot, changing identities whenever their friends and neighbors begin to suspect. It’s a very difficult way of life, Dr. Alfonso. And a very lonely one.”

Milly stared. Part of her wanted to dismiss the woman as insane. But she couldn’t help but remember other things. Jobey’s odd habit of calling Alex “old man” when he thought Milly wasn’t listening. The lack of any personal photos in the house, except for a few snapshots and school pictures of Milly. The way Alex had handled the swords on his wall as if he’d been a knight of old born with one in his hands. “We live our lives differently from other people, Sprout, and anything different always makes people a bit afraid…” “You think my Dr. Porter was one of these…different ones?”

“I think both he and Joe were,” Dr. Clarke said boldly. “The…nature of these people is that they don’t know what they are until they are killed violently. First death, it’s called. Joe wouldn’t have known he was Immortal until he drowned that day on the coast. And it would have been as much of a tragedy as a miracle for him to find out. Immortals can’t heal wounds that occurred before their first deaths, and he’d already lost his legs. There are dangers for these kinds of people that go far beyond persecution from the ignorant, Dr. Alfonso. It makes sense to me that if Adam suspected that Joe was going to become Immortal, he would have decided to let him die a natural death instead of making him face those dangers—and then when the accident happened, he would have whisked him away to start a safer life someplace else. Joe certainly couldn’t have stayed in the line of work he was in. One of the other Immortals he was Watching would have sensed him…”

“Immortals?” Milly let out a bitter laugh. *”What the hell are you wearing that for?” “Wearing what?” “Don’t Take Life So Seriously-It Isn’t Permanent’. Where on earth did you find such a horrible thing?” “Oh. This. I got it at that t-shirt shop at the mall. I thought it was funny…””It isn’t funny. It’s obscene. You’re never to wear that again, do you hear me? Never, ever again…”* “There’s no such thing as immortality, Dr. Clarke. Believe me. Alex and Jobey were as aware of that as anybody else. Now, I really must insist that you go. I have lots of unpacking to do.”

“But—“

“Do I need to call the police?”

Dr. Clarke shook her head. “No,” she said. “No, of course not. I’m sorry to have disturbed you, Dr. Alfonso.” She got to her feet. “May I ask just one more question, please?”

“One.”

“Did your Jobey and Alex ever have any…unusual visitors? A man named Duncan MacLeod, perhaps? Or a woman who called herself Amanda?”

Milly bit her lip, remembering lipstick lessons, calligraphy in a basement, and a very tender kiss between friends out in a garden. She looked into Dr. Lindsey’s hopeful, expectant eyes…and looked away. “When it comes to anything strange you’ve seen—especially any other names you’ve ever heard Jobey and me call each other, or any of our guests—you’re not to say anything. Do you understand?” “I’m sorry,” Milly said heavily. “I really can’t help you.”

Dr. Lindsey stared at her, disappointment clear…and then she nodded. “I understand,” she said. “I’ll go now. I’m sorry I took so much of your time. But if I could ask just one more favor?”

“What is it?”

“You’re going to live longer than I will. I know you don’t believe it’s possible, but…well, if you ever see either of your mentors again, could you tell them…” The elderly women’s eyes suddenly filled with tears. “Just tell them that they’ve been missed. All right?”

Milly heard the unspoken pain. She reached out instinctively and touched Dr. Clarke’s arms. “It’s not possible,” she said gently. “But if I ever do…I’ll deliver the message.”

Dr. Clarke nodded. She patted Milly’s hand and left without saying another word.

***

One year later, Milly stood outside the entrance of an expertly restored brownstone in a particularly upscale part of New York, wondering if she’d gone completely insane. Not only was the noise and bustle of the mega-city making her head spin, but she knew that knocking on a complete stranger’s door in this day and age really was crazy—as crazy as maxing out her credit cards to buy solarplane tickets to follow what was probably just another wild goose chase. She’d already spent way too much of her savings on private investigators as it was. In the year since Dr. Clarke had visited, neither Milly nor any of the professionals she’d hired had been able to trace Jobey or Alex at all, nor had they been able to locate Amanda or Nick. But Duncan MacLeod….ah. Duncan MacLeods there were in great plenty, several in every state in the union. Most of them turned out to be quite common, ordinary men who in no way matched Milly’s faded childhood memories. Milly knew this because she’d contacted them all, one by one. But this one…this one had evaded every effort of her investigator to speak to him or even snap a picture, and when the PI told Milly that this Duncan MacLeod didn’t appear to have a birth certificate on file, something in Milly’s heart had gone ding. She’d booked her tickets at once, not stopping to think…until this very moment, when the stranger’s door confronted her. She shouldn’t be doing this. She shouldn’t have come all this way just on a hunch. But the same hunch had also told her that if she was going to get to the bottom of this, she had to confront this stranger in person, not give him a chance to run away. She took a deep breath, raised her hand and knocked.

The door opened. Standing inside was a beautiful, strong, incredibly physically fit thirty year old man…with a face that Milly suddenly realized she knew as perfectly as if she’d just seen it yesterday. *Dios mio, he’s gorgeous,* she thought somewhat hysterically. *My first crush…and he hasn’t aged a day. Santa Maria…* He was looking at her curiously, waiting for her to speak. With a great effort, Milly got a handle on herself. “Duncan MacLeod?” she said.

“Yes?” The friendly chocolate eyes swept over her, clearly not recognizing her at all. Well, that made sense, didn’t it? Twenty-eight years had changed her from a child of seven to woman of thirty-five. Even if there were apparently pockets of the universe where time had different rules, such as the one this man seemed to inhabit. “I’m sorry, do I know you?” he asked.

“Yes,” Milly said positively. “You do. I—” She stopped, started again. “I’m Dr. Millicent Alfonso. Milly Alfonso?” The handsome man looked ever so politely baffled. Milly tried again. “I—you came to visit some friends of mine once, in Las Cruces, when I was a girl. Their names were Jobey and Alex. Alex used to call me his Pixie…”

Another second of confusion…and then recognition. “Pixie,” he said. “*You’re* Methos’s Pixie?” Milly nodded, emotion swelling as she remember the strange name from the handful of times Jobey had said it, most particularly to a bloody, bashed-in head cradled in his lap. Duncan MacLeod’s eyes swept over her face and figure, clearly stunned. “My god,” he said. “Methos’s Pixie. You *have* grown…”

And Milly burst into tears. 

***

She shortly found herself being ushered into an exquisitely furnished living room, where Duncan MacLeod urged her to sit on the couch while he got a glass of water from the luxury bar in the corner. A second later he was handing it to her as he sat down at her side, an expression of deep sympathy on his face. “I’m sorry,” Milly said, trying to get a handle on her sobs. “I’m sorry to break down like this. I just…you have no idea how hard it’s been to find you.”

“I may have some idea,” Duncan MacLeod answered. He reached behind him, producing a box of tissues from an end table. “May I ask what caused you to track me down, Dr. Alfonso?”

“Please, call me Millicent,” Milly said, taking a tissue gratefully and dabbing at her eyes. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m looking for Jobey and Alex.”

“Ah.” Duncan MacLeod leaned back slightly. His face was very grave. “And why would you think I could help you with that?”

Milly frowned. “Well, I think that should be fairly obvious too,” she said. “You *are* the Duncan MacLeod who came to Thanksgiving Dinner so long ago, aren’t you? I know that Alex considered you to be his family, and that Jobey thought of you as a son. If anybody on the face of the earth can tell me what really happened to them, it would be you.” Duncan MacLeod remained silent, absolutely poker faced. Milly sighed. “Mr. MacLeod, I think it’s time we both laid our cards out on the table. About a year ago a woman came to me with a very strange story to tell, a story about people who looked just like you and me but never got sick and never grew old. She called these people Immortals…”

Mr. MacLeod looked very alarmed. “Who was this woman?” he said quickly. “Did she have a tattoo on her wrist?”

Milly blinked. “I don’t know,” she said. “She was wearing long sleeves when she visited me. She said her name was Dr. Lindsey Clarke, though, and she thought…well, she believed that she had worked with Alex and Jobey for some kind of research institution in Europe, before they came to Las Cruces. She thought they’d changed their names…” MacLeod nodded and seemed to relax, although his eyes still looked worried. “Mr. MacLeod, Dr. Clarke seemed to think it was possible that Alex and Jobey were both special, Immortal. Now, I am scientist. I don’t believe in things I can’t test with my own hands. I thought Dr. Clarke was crazy at first, and I sent her away. But after she’d gone I started remembering some of the strange things Alex and Jobey both did, the way they acted when I was a child. And now that I see you…well. Even you have to admit that you look remarkably youthful for a man who should be in his sixties. I’m beginning to believe that Dr. Clarke was right.” Milly crumpled the ball of Kleenex in her hand, looked Mr. MacLeod squarely in her eyes. “Mr. MacLeod, I’m not here to make trouble. I just…if there’s any chance that either Alex or Jobey might still be alive, I have to know. Have to see them, have to make sure they’re safe. Surely you understand?”

Mr. MacLeod didn’t answer. He just got up, looking very troubled, and walked to the window, staring meditatively out into the street. Milly waited. “I do understand,” he said at last. “Believe me, I do. But I—“ He sighed. “Millicent, I’m afraid Dr. Clarke, whoever she was, was misinformed. The man you knew as Jobey is dead.” 

Milly felt her entire body go cold. She was a smart woman; she could do the math. Hell, Alex and Jobey had practically been the ones to teach her how to do the math. She’d known that Jobey would be in his eighties now, if he was still alive. “But…” she said. Stopped. Swallowed hard. Tried again. “How?”

Duncan MacLeod looked sad. “The cancer came back.”

“He—“ Another false start. Milly curled her hands into fists with the determination to keep her voice steady. “Was he happy? At the end?”

“Gloriously.” A fond, sad look came into the Scotsman’s eyes. “Meth—Alex was really magnificent, you know. He took very good care of him, was with him every waking moment and most of the sleeping ones, too. I should have known he would be, given the way he was with Alexa, but I was still surprised—“ He saw Milly’s confusion, smiled apologetically. “Sorry. Alexa was Alex’s wife. She died of cancer in 1994.”

“Alex was married?” Milly couldn’t believe her ears. “To a *woman*?”

“Yes.” Duncan looked amused. “Do you find that hard to believe?”

“Impossible to believe,” Milly retorted, juggling numbers in her head. “Mr. MacLeod, Alex was born in 1972. Are you trying to tell me that he was a widower at the ripe old age of twenty-two?”

“It does happen, you know. And Alex always was mature for his years.”

“I see.” Milly fixed the man with a penetrating gaze. “The same goes for you too, I suppose?”

“I’ll admit that I’m older than I look.” Mr. MacLeod answered. “Listen to me, Millicent. I know what you’re looking for, and I understand why you’re looking. Believe me, I understand. But I have to tell you, you’re at a dead end.”

Cold fear clutched her. “Is Alex…”

“No, Millicent. Alex is alive. Very much so. And likely to stay that way for a very, very long time.” Duncan sighed. “But I can’t help you find him. I’m sorry.”

“Can’t? Or won’t?”

“A little bit of both,” Duncan admitted. “I really don’t know where he is right now. Meth—Alex has a way of disappearing for years at a time. He will check in with me eventually, I think. But even if he does…” A sigh. “I won’t tell you.”

“Why not?”

“Because Alex wouldn’t want me to.”

“I see.” *Remember that we love you. Remember that none of this is your fault.* “You think I’d be that much of a disappointment to him, then? That he wouldn’t want to see how badly I turned out?”

“Good heavens, no!” Duncan exclaimed, looking horrified. “No, Millicent, that isn’t it. He’d just want you to be safe, that’s all. To lead a normal life.”

“And you think that seeing him again would destroy that?” Milly laughed bitterly. “Mr. MacLeod, any chance for normality I ever had was shattered forever the night my mother’s boyfriend decided a ten year old girl would serve his sexual needs just as well as an adult. Alex and Jobey were the only reason I wasn’t destroyed by that. They’d spent years teaching me by example that even if I couldn't have normal, I still had two choices: abnormally bad, or abnormally good. I chose to become extraordinary, thanks to them.” She dug into her pockets, came out with two tiny pieces of gold. She flung them at Mr. MacLeod’s feet. “Here. When Alex ‘checks in’, give him these.”

“What are they?”

“My Phi Beta Kappa keys,” Milly spelled out. “One for high school, one for college. Most women who work hard enough to earn two make them into earrings. I worked extra hard so Alex and Jobey could each have one on their key chains.” She looked at the floor. “I guess Alex will have to take them both, now.”

“Millicent, please. Don’t leave these here. They represent too much.”

“I don’t need them. I never did. The only reason I worked so hard to get them was to make Alex and Jobey proud. If I can’t have that, then…” Milly shrugged. “I’ll go now. I won’t ask you to keep in touch, Mr. MacLeod; I don’t expect we’ll ever have anything more to say to each other. Goodbye.” She turned on her heel and started to leave.

“Wait. Please.” She turned back to see a very agitated Duncan MacLeod picking up the charms from the floor. He held them thoughtfully in his hand for a moment, then, much to Milly’s surprise, slipped them into his pants pocket instead of trying to give them back. “I—I think I have something I can give you. Alex will never forgive me, but—well. You just have to promise to keep it safe. All right?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Hold on a moment.” Mr. MacLeod went to his desk and flipped a switch, causing a holographic computer interface to flare into life. He fumbled in the drawer for a small, thin piece of smart liquid crystal, which he held within the interface. After a moment of frantic finger manipulation he pulled it out again. “Here.”

Milly looked at the small square, touching the center. The display lit up, showing a small photo. It was of Alex and Jobey, curled up together in a hospital bed. They were both smiling brightly at the camera, the very aged Jobey lounging with his head on Alex’s chest. Milly stared…and felt a fresh mist of tears come to her eyes. “They…they seem happy.”

“That’s because they were.”

“Yes,” Milly said distantly. “I remember.” Throat choked, she carefully took the liquid crystal and tucked it into her purse, handling it as though it was the most precious object she’d ever come across. “Mr. MacLeod…”

“Yes, Millicent?”

“Where is Jobey buried?”

Mr. MacLeod’s face went soft with understanding. “In Miami,” he said. “Under the name of Joel Dobson. I’ll give you the cemetery’s address.” He disappeared again, came back with another small display that Milly tucked away without reading. Her eyes were swimming with tears. “Millicent,” Duncan said, and Milly thought he sounded very compassionate. “I really am sorry that I can’t help you more.”

She nodded. “I believe you are,” she said, and left before she could start crying again.

***

There was just barely enough money left in Milly’s savings account to buy a third class ticket to Miami. Once there, she spent a restless night in the cheapest hotel she could find, then went in search of Jobey’s cemetery. The caretaker pointed her toward the right plot, and Milly walked through the rows and rows of tombstones until she found a simple monument: “Joel Dobson, Beloved, September 27, 1955—February 28th, 2035.” Milly’s heart cracked in two. Six months, six months only. If she’d been faster—maybe agreed to work with Dr. Clarke instead of sending her away—she could have found them earlier, could have seen Jobey at least once before he died. All strength gone, Milly sagged to her knees at the foot of the grave, letting the damp earth sink into her jeans as she silently mourned. So close…

A shadow fell across the grave, and a voice spoke, soft and musical with the accents of a land far away. “I never quite get used to it, you know.” 

Milly’s entire body went numb. She knew that voice. The fact that she hadn’t heard it in person since she was eleven years old didn’t matter at all. How could it, when she’d heard it in her memories a million times since then, played the last words it had ever said to her over and over again in her mind? Milly heard a pair of feet squish in the grass just behind her right shoulder, and knew that she should turn her head to look—but she couldn’t make herself, not yet. Not when it would hurt so much to be wrong. She forced herself to speak casually instead, still looking at the grave. “And just what is it that you find so hard to get used to?”

“Children,” the stranger said matter-of-factly. “They grow up so damn fast. I blink, and the little boys I knew are suddenly men. And the girls are suddenly women, strong and beautiful and accomplished beyond even my wildest expectations.” Milly felt a light hand touch her shoulder, its warmth radiating through her blouse. “When I first saw you through the cemetery gates, I thought that I wouldn’t have known you, you’ve changed so much,” the voice said more softly. “But now that I’m closer, I see that I would have recognized you anywhere. Hello, Pixie.”

Milly looked up. Through her haze of tears she saw Alex, wearing a soft smile of welcome on what she now realized was actually a very young face. He was wearing sandals, board shorts, and one very, very loud Hawaiian shirt. She reached up to cover his hand with hers, unable to quite believe her eyes despite the fact she was clutching his fingers like a lifeline. “It’s impossible,” she said. “*You* are impossible.”

He shook his head. “No.”

“But…how…”

“Ah, now. That’s a question with many different meanings, and many different answers.” Alex knelt down at her side. “Let’s start with the simplest. How did I know you’d be here? Duncan told me. He called, right after your left his apartment in New York.”

“He told me he didn’t know how to contact you!”

“He was acting under strict, thirty-year-old orders not to,” Alex said. “I’m—well. Let’s just say that there are lots of very unpleasant people in this world, a few of whom would do almost anything to discover where I am. Sadly, that ‘anything’ has, in the past, included torturing the information out of the people I love. Duncan was trying to protect you as much as me by not telling you where I was.” Milly nodded, shaken. “But he called me right away, and after he told me he’d given you the address of Joe’s cemetery, I had a pretty good idea where you’d go next. I have some experience at hacking into secure computer networks. It was easy to confirm that a Doctor M. Alfonso had booked a flight from New York to Miami. I knew you’d come here once you arrived.” Alex’s expression softened. “Dr. Alfonso. You have no idea how proud I was to read that, Milly.”

She wiped at her eyes. “Yes, well, it would never have happened if it wasn’t for you,” she said. “I—that was the main reason I had to find you, I think. To tell you. And to thank you.” Milly reached out an awkward hand to trace the name on the tombstone. “’Joel Dobson,’” she read aloud. “Was that his real name?”

“No.”

“What was?”

“He was born Joseph Dawson. Everyone used to call him Joe.”

“Then Dr. Clarke really did know you. Once upon a time.” Milly gave a shaky laugh. “It doesn’t seem right, somehow. I can’t think of either of you as anything but Alex and Jobey.” A thought suddenly occurred. “Oh, god. What a horrible pun.”

Alex tried to look innocent. “What pun?”

“Don’t give me that! His name. Jobey. I always thought that was a really strange nickname for a grown man to have. But you were actually calling him Joe-B all along, weren’t you? As in Joe, version two?” 

Alex smirked. “Well, it *was* Joe’s idea for us to name each other,” he said. “He wanted to keep the same initials—it meant that we didn’t have to get rid of all the personalized cufflinks and book plates—but beyond that, his name was up to me. I originally picked Job because living with me requires a great deal of patience. And then I couldn’t resist adding the y.” 

Milly shook her head, mentally acquiring a whole new respect for the depths of Jobey’s love for his partner. If he was willing to put up with years of living with a bad pun for a name just to please him… “Why the Darwin, then?” she asked. “Because the name was the next step in your personal evolution, or something?”

“No, not entirely. Darwin means ‘true and noble friend’ in Old English.” Alex reached out and touched the gravestone with light, tender fingers. “I couldn’t come up with a better description of Joe’s beautiful soul than that.”

“No.” Milly’s voice was choked. She looked at the gravestone for a moment. “And Alex Porter? Why did Jobey—Joe—name you that?”

“Alex was in honor of a woman who meant a great deal to us both. Porter was Joe’s joke. He thought it very appropriate that I should be named after a beer.”

“Was he really born in 1955?”

“No. 1950. When we started over in Miami after Las Cruces, Joe wanted to shave off five years so people didn’t think there was quite so much age difference between us. I always thought it was rather pointless, but it made him feel better, so…”

“And you.” Milly looked gravely at the vibrant man beside her. “You weren’t really born in 1972, were you.”

“No.”

“When, then?”

A sigh. “That’s a question I’m not quite ready to answer yet, Milly. Let’s just say that the age difference between Joe and me is vaster than you can possibly imagine. And it was me, not him, who robbed the cradle.”

“So, like your friend MacLeod, you really are older than you look.” Alex shrugged, clearly unwilling to say anything more. Milly frowned. “The Alex Porter I knew growing up never evaded my questions.”

“No,” Alex said thoughtfully. “That’s true. I never did.” He looked sad. “It’s not that I don’t want to tell you, Milly. But knowing the truth about me will change your life.”

“’Change my life’,” Milly repeated. “Oh, and you’ve never done *that* before, now have you? You think putting a professional atlas into the hands of a six year old wasn’t life changing? You think teaching her Latin and Greek and that there were some men in the world actually worth trusting didn’t make a difference?” Alex said nothing. Milly took his hands. “Alex, you were the one who taught me to love learning—to always seek knowledge, because knowing is always better than not knowing. You can’t tell me that’s all a lie now.” 

Alex appeared to think deeply for a moment. Then he got to his feet, and held out his hand. “Walk with me.”

Milly did.

***

The small luxury solarjet landed on the tiny tropical island shortly before sunset. Milly, whose head had been spinning ever since they’d taken off in Miami, found that she was quite grateful to be on solid ground. Not that this island really qualified as such. The warm white sand of the beach that bordered the private airstrip felt like it belonged to another world…but then, even Milly’s familiar house in Las Cruces would have seemed like a parallel universe now, given all the things Alex had told her about during their time in the air. Immortality. The Game. And the unbelievable fact that the man she’d known as Alex Porter, who was standing next to her now in the loud Hawaiian shirt and the very silly looking Bermuda shorts, had lived for more than five thousand years. “I’ll have the pilot take your bags up to the house,” Alex—Methos—told her as they walked away from the airplane, indicating the large colonial mansion Milly could see rising above the jungle in the distance. “Right now, there’s something I’d like you to see.” He checked the very expensive watch on his wrist, and smiled broadly. “Six o’clock. He should just be getting started.”

“Who?” Milly asked, but Alex just smiled mysteriously and offered his arm. Milly took it, and they began to wander away from the little airstrip toward the beach on what was obviously a well-worn path, tropical trees waving in the breeze. “I think you’ll like the house,” Alex said as they walked. “Even if it isn’t entirely original. The last owner had it completely remodeled, which is just as well, really. The modern era has many advantages the original colonists never even dreamed of.”

“Advantages. Yes, I think you could say that,” Milly said, dazed. Alex had shown her several pictures on the plane of his new “house”, really a gigantic colonial mansion he’d bought from a former American millionaire. At the time it had simply been one more piece of information to make Milly’s head spin. Now, though, having seen the house and the grounds as the plane circled before landing, she had to ask the next question. “Um, Alex…just how much money do you have?”

Alex shrugged. “I think at last count I was worth somewhere in the neighborhood of seventy million,” he said easily. “Not all that much, by today’s standards. But enough.”

“I would say so,” Milly agreed deadpan, mind boggling. “I guess compound interest really works to your advantage.”

“Yes, although the real money came from investing in commercial real estate. This time, at least.” Milly gave him a quizzical look. “There’s no such thing as a sure bet, Pixie. Governments have a way of collapsing and rendering their currency worthless, and wars tend to make property laws obsolete. I’ve had to start over many, many times. This time, though, I decided to enjoy myself a bit before the inevitable happened again.” He took in Milly’s completely discombobulated expression and changed the subject. “So. Tell me. Have you decided what you’re going to do yet?”

“Do?”

“With your life.” He met her startled gaze evenly. “I told you, knowing the truth about me changes things, Pix. You’re a target now for every Immortal in the Game who wants my head, as well as several mortals with much less clear-cut reasons for wanting to find me. Which leaves you with two options, as I see it. Since you were for the most part very discrete during your search, it’s probably still safe for you to return to your life in Las Cruces…but if you do you’ll have to forget that Alex Porter ever existed, and keep a sharp eye out for people who could find you the same way Dr. Clarke did. I’ll set up a secure way for you to get a hold of me in case of an extreme emergency, but otherwise you’ll have to be on your own. It’s just too dangerous to be in regular contact with me.”

Milly felt herself go pale. To have found him, just to lose him again…“And my other option?”

“You could stay here,” Alex answered. “Start over with a new identity. There’s lots of interesting geography in these islands, you know. Perhaps we could get you a grant to study old shipping maps or something. Or you could just be lazy, spend your days sunning on the beach. I wouldn’t mind a permanent houseguest.” He waved a hand back at the house. “As you can see, we have plenty of room.”

“Yes, I can see that,” Milly said, and then the last words sunk in. “Wait a minute. What do you mean by ‘we’?” Alex just gave her a Cheshire grin, and pointed down the beach. A few hundred feet away there stood a bar modeled on the classic Hollywood “Island Hut” model, complete with starfish in nets and coconuts hanging from the straw roof. Milly thought it looked like the cheesiest thing she’d ever seen. Nevertheless, something wonderful and mouthwatering was clearly cooking inside, filling the air with fragrance…and fragrance wasn’t all. As Milly watched, she heard the melodic chime of a guitar. And it wasn’t island music, either. It was blues. Gritty, rough, magnificent American blues… “It can’t be,” Milly gasped. “It can’t be.”

“Go look for yourself.”

Milly flew down the beach, sand flying out from under her heels as she crashed onto the hut’s porch and peered over the straw-and-bamboo saloon style door. There, in the middle of the room, was Jobey. He was considerably more wrinkled and considerably more bald than Milly remembered, but like Alex recognizing Milly, Milly would have known him anyplace on earth—especially the look of closed-eye passion with which he played, fingers dancing, entire being engrossed in the sound. Milly stared, open mouthed, until she felt Alex join her silently on the porch. “It’s impossible,” she whispered, turning wild eyes to Alex’s face. “He can’t be…you said he wasn’t…”

“No. He’s not Immortal,” Alex said, and Milly could see the regret. “But fortunately for me, he’s much too stubborn to let a little thing like a second bout with cancer bring him down.” Milly nodded, tears filling her eyes. “I didn’t want to tell you he was still alive until I knew for certain that you were going to be okay with all this,” Alex said. “And then I thought it was best for you to see him in person, rather than just hear the news from me.” He held out his hand, a look of pride and love in his eyes that Milly had thought she would die without ever seeing again. “Come on inside. I know he can’t wait to see you.”

Milly took his hand, and walked through the swinging bamboo doors into the rest of her life.

**The End**

**Author's Note:**

> The song Joe sings in the hospital is Bruce Springsteen’s “If I Should Fall Behind”, which appears on his “Lucky Time” album. Also, I made up one or two of the t-shirt designs quoted in this story, but 90% of them were either inspired by or stolen directly from shirts featured in the _Signals_ and _Wireless_ catalogs (I’m fairly sure both catalogs are owned by the same company.) Go buy stuff from them, _Signals_ in particular is very, very cool.


End file.
